Amnesia
by Ascari
Summary: AU, Receiving two quickening at the same time causes Methos to lose his memory – add to that a watcher psychiatrist, Duncan and Joe, and Methos’s darker side comes out again to play (also appearing: Kronos). UPDATE: COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

_**Standard disclaimer: the concept of Immortality and the Immortals belong to Rysher and are copyrighted by them. This story is for fun, not for profit.**_

_Much thanks once again to my beta-reader Neoinean for correcting all my mistakes (especially the many commas :-)_

_If you wonder: Duncan will appear later – much later._

_And I appreciate feedback :-)_

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**AMNESIA**

"Damn," Methos thought angrily at himself for getting into this situation as he opened the old rusty iron door in front of him. Behind it he could see a large dark hall, which was only illuminated by the moonlight shining through the shattered windows on both sides.

For a moment it was totally silent, and the only sound, he noticed, was the quick beating of his own heart. As he entered the hall, his right leg got tangled up in something that was lying on the floor, and he felt a deep burning pain as something sharp scratched over his leg. Not having time to concern himself with this any longer he ignored the pain and hurried instead to close the door soundlessly behind him.

Because his eyes had already acclimated to the dark around him he was able to get a better look at the room he was now standing in. To his left and right, he could see accumulations of garbage, very likely collected and put here by beggars, which seemed to have slept here not long ago.

Suddenly he heard slight, almost inaudible steps coming from all directions. As he looked a little closer he recognized the source: rats; they were almost everywhere. Methos shuddered; he hated rats with all of his heart.

As he went deeper into the hall, he almost choked because he found himself confronted by an ugly odour, which almost overwhelmed his senses. He knew the smell very well: it was urine. Covering his nose with his right hand as best as he could manage, he hurried through the room hoping to find an exit to the outside - but there was none.

"Damn," he whispered as he turned to hurry back, knowing that he would only have few seconds before his pursuers would arrive. He only managed a few steps when he suddenly heard loud footsteps outside. It was too late; he could only hide in the shadows of the hall now, and hope that his hunters had not seen him enter the building.

A few moments later, his hope was ruined by an angry deep voice that shouted, "come out, we know that you hide in there!"

Methos sighed deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what had brought him in this situation.

------------------------------------------------------------------ Flashback -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Methos sat in Joe's bar and drank his second beer while he listened to Joe's blues music. He really enjoyed himself, and even more he enjoyed watching the man sitting at a table as far away from Methos's position as possible. With an amused grin, Methos took another sip of his beer as he eyed the other a little closer.

It was a dark-haired man of about 25 years, who desperately tried to make the impression that he was sitting there by accident and now enjoyed the music. The man had an almost full glass of beer standing in front of him as he let his eyes wander over the crowd, always letting them unobtrusively flicker back to Methos – unobtrusively only for him, because Methos had spotted the man at the moment he had left his flat that morning.

The man happened to be his new watcher, Timothy Wyatt, who had been assigned to him six weeks ago. It had been bad luck that the watchers had discovered his Immortality; if this stupid fool hadn't challenged him... but he wasn't able to change that now.

Thank God that the watchers did not know his real identity; they only thought him to be a relatively new Immortal who had suffered his first death at the Kalas incident. Joe thankfully had backed his story, and had told the watchers that he had become MacLeod's student, and was now trying to get used to Immortal life.

"Hi," Joe greeted him after he had finished the last song, and came in Methos' direction. "I see you have helped yourself to another glass of beer," he then said as he pointed at Methos's glass. "Maybe you should pay your tab before you order another one."

Methos grinned back. "Joe, I never pay for my beer, you should really know that by now... By the way, have you heard something new of MacLeod?"

"No," Dawson replied as he sat down next to the ancient Immortal. "He is still staying with Connor; apparently they're making a tour through the Highlands. The last I heard of them was that they hired horses, bought tents and all the things you need for an outdoor tour; as far as I know the two, we shouldn't expect them back for weeks."

"Yeah," Methos agreed, "looks that way... an outdoor tour," he shook his head as he twisted his face. "And that voluntarily... No, thank you very much; ten horses could not bring me to go on an outdoor tour in the Highlands."

"It's not that bad".

"Ha, not that bad... You are right, it's even worse. Thing about all the small animals that crawl everywhere, the cold weather, getting up every day with the cold morning fog and not to forget the lack of beer... I really couldn't think of something I would do more reluctantly."

Joe smiled as he moved his chair a little closer to Methos. Then he leaned forward and whispered with amusement in his voice, "looks like your watcher is here, too... The poor guy had really problems to explain to his supervisor why he lost you a week ago, and why he missed the fact that you moved your flat."

"What a pity," Methos grinned back, and took another sip.

"By the way," Dawson continued more seriously, "you should be cautious. I have heard that a group of four Immortals recently arrived in the city. As much as I know, the group consists of a teacher and his three students. The teacher's name is Armand de Court, a 500 year old Frenchman, and what I heard, not one of the good guys. I looked him up in the database; according to it, he is a hunter and he doesn't fight fair. Rumours say that he always has a second weapon hidden in his coat. Not that he needs it: apparently they always hunt together; if one of his students fails to take his challenger's head, he or one of his other students beheads the weakened winner."

"Good to know, Joe... I think I will leave town until the danger is over; I really don't want to run into this group by accident."

"Yeah, maybe it's better, Adam. I let you know when the danger is over."

"Thanks, Joe." With that, Methos got up and walked to the door, knowing that his shadow was following him already. Looking in slight disappointment at the rain clouds that began to shadow the sky above, he hurried to his car, and drove home. He didn't get very far. After 15 minutes, his car suddenly began to make strange noises and Methos could smell smoke. He stopped.

Three minutes later, Methos stood in front of his opened hood while he could feel the first raindrops fall on his stared angrily at his car. "Damn car!" He shouted as he finally pulled his cell phone out of his coat. He began to deal the number of the ADAC (tow company), as his eyes caught sight of the display, which showed that the battery was empty. Damning himself and the word in general he stuffed it back, knowing that is was not very likely that help would arrive soon.

He once again looked at the dark clouds in the sky, and then finally decided with a deep sigh to walk the rest of his way - if he would be lucky, he could make it home in 20 minutes; he would take care of his car the next day. Still angry, he closed his car, and then began to walk in the direction he knew was the shortest way to his flat. Although it led through dark streets and abandoned buildings, Methos decided to use it because he did not want to walk in the rain.

About ten minutes later, he suddenly felt an Immortal presence behind him. Not really wanting to face the other he began to speed up, but then also felt presence coming from the front. "Damn," he thought in rising panic, and grabbed his sword a little tighter.

A few seconds later, the other Immortals appeared: it was an older grey-haired man of about 45 years and three younger men between 20 and 30. One had a scar at his left eye and was bigger than the others; the second was a black-haired, ugly looking guy with a big nose; and the third was not much prettier and also looked rather stupid.

Methos didn't have to wait for the introduction to know whom he was facing: it was the Immortal hunter group Joe had told him of before. Four against one – he knew that he would not have a chance. Nevertheless he decided to try: he immediately attacked the stupid-looking guy. Using the element of surprise, Methos hit him with his sword against the guy's head and then began to run as fast as he could manage. Behind him he could hear angry cries, and then footsteps that followed him very fast – too fast for his taste.

--------------------------------------------------------------- Flashback end ----------------------------------------------------------------------

Methos reopened his eyes and sighed again; it had not been a good idea to hide inside of this abandoned factory - he was trapped now.

"Ok, if you don't want to come out, we come in and get you!" The voice once again shouted. Methos hid deeper into the shadows, and grabbed his pistol as the door was opened...


	2. 2

_PLEASE READ: This chapter is written without a beta (she apparently still has some serious computer problems). I'm not a native English, so there will be very likely some mistakes (mainly commas, I think). But I hope you still like it!_

_Thank you for reviewing so far!_

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A second later, Methos could see a beam of light shine into the dark hall. _So much for hiding_, he thought disappointed as he released the safety catch of the gun he had hidden in his coat-pocket.

"I can't see him," a young sounding voice whispered.

"Maybe you should then go in and have a look, stupid fool,"another voice suggested mockingly.

Few moments later, Methos spotted the dark contour of a figure appear on the door. In one hand it held a flashlight and in the other Methos could see the shape of a sword. The figure only managed five steps into the room until it began to complain," Ahh, this smells horrible... and look at the dirt."

"Hey," a third voice threw in, "we are not here because of the beautiful area if you remember. You are the one who has been getting on our nerves for 3 days now saying that it's your term to get the next quickening. And now that you have the chance, you complain about some smell... Hey, if you don't want him, then let me! I don't whine because I could get myself a bit dirty."

The first figure only snarled angrily at these words as he continued to let his light wander over the room.

Knowing that he couldn't hide in the dark any longer, Methos stepped into the light while he made sure that he had a relatively good position between the door and the windows. One hand in his pocket, he aimed the hidden gun at the figure in front of him.

The man, Methos identified him now as the one with the scar, grinned evilly at him. Letting an expression of fear flicker over his Adam Pierson, mild mannered watcher face, Methos hold his sword in a manner that cried out loudly: Newbie.

After a few moments, the other three Immortals also entered and Armand de Court smiled with a very false smile at Methos as he greeted him, "hi, I don't think we've had the chance to exchange introductions yet – you were running too fast... So, let's make it up now."

Pointing with one hand at the stupid looking guy standing behind the man with the scar, he then explained," this guy here, you've hit recently, is Jacob... I don't believe that he likes you very much. But don't concern yourself with him, you'll fight Ronan here."He let his hand wander to the man with the scar. "And last but not least Karl." He pointed at the third guy. "And I'm Armand, their teacher." He looked then expectantly at Methos, "... and you are?"

"I'm Adam Pierson," Methos replied with a very young and harmless sounding voice, "and I don't want to fight you."

"Sorry, but I'm afraid that's not for discussion," de Court answered, a slight trace of amusement now evident in his voice. "You must know that I promised Ronan a head today. You surly understand that I can't violate my word, don't you?" he then asked with a very false friendliness in his voice.

"You are four - it's against the rules to fight together."

"Yes, you are right," de Court grinned, "and we will not violate the rules." His grin deepened as he addressed his students that were grinning evilly at Methos. "The youngling here thinks we fight unfair, boys". He shook his head in pretended hurt as he clicked his tongue. "We go strictly by the rules," he then smiled sweetly at Methos, "one by one and no interfering... And now I really suggest that you start fighting because we have not the whole day, and the odour here is not very appealing."

In the moonlight Methos could make out the grinning face of Ronan as the other threw his flashlight to Jacob and then stepped closer. Without hesitation he then attacked. Methos knew after a few blows that the other was a good swordsman but compared to him not good enough – he easily would have defeated the man if the other Immortals hadn't been near.

Pretending to be a relatively inexperienced fighter, Methos only parried the other one's blows but not seriously attacked himself. Using all the stalling tactics he had come to know of during his 5000 years, he easily managed to get the other man to underestimate him.

Waiting for the best moment to make his escape, he then finally feigned an attack from the left side but instead attacked from the right. This obviously unexpected manoeuvre caught his opponent by total surprise and made him hesitate for a moment – a moment too much.

Methos used the other's inattentiveness to by-pass his parry and then ram him through with the Ivanhoe. Pulling it out again in one quick move, he then raised it with almost inhuman speed while he roared an ancient war cry and beheaded his adversary with one forceful blow. Not waiting for the other men to recover from their surprise, he then continued his movement and also beheaded the stupid looking guy who was still starring in shock at his now headless friend. The whole act had not lasted more than 4 seconds.

Hearing the dead bodies fall to the floor behind him, he then grabbed his pistol inside of his coat and began to fire through it at the two remaining Immortals. Simultaneously, he then hurried backwards to the next window and jumped through it, emptying his gun into the hall.

Because the room he had jumped out happened to be in the 4Th story, he hit the ground very hard, together with several fragments of glass that cut deeply into his flesh. Moaning in pain, he then remained laying there for some seconds while he felt blood-bubbles appear on his mouth – apparently the fall had caused some serious injuries. Every move brought him terrible pain; but he had no other choice than to run now. He didn't know if the bullets had wounded the Immortals, and he also was painfully aware that the quickening would hit him soon and leave him totally vulnerable to any further attacks.

Forcing himself with gritted teeth to get up, he then staggered along the street. He didn't make it very far until the first quickening hit him. Knowing that he had to bring more distance between him and the Immortals, he began to fight the quickening as hard as he could manage - and he managed very hard.

He was able to turn it away for some precious moments what brought him enough time to make it to the end of the street. But then the second quickening joined the first and hammered in almost brutal force into Methos. Being already weakened by the injuries, he had no restrains against it any longer. The combined power of the two quickening was worse than every quickening he had ever experienced in his life.

Methos felt incredible pain; his whole universe exploded in white burning fire. From a very large distance he meant to hear someone screaming; he needed several moments to register that this someone was him. After a time that felt like eternity to him, he then found himself kneeling on the dirty ground, one hand clenched so forcefully around his sword-hilt that blood drooped from it. He also could taste the typical metallic flavour of blood in his mouth and felt something warm and sticky run down his right leg as he tried to get up again - blood. This was definitely not normal: something had gone terrible wrong with the quickening.

He moaned and looked up as he suddenly heard a noise that sounded as if someone was inhaling deeply. In front of him stood his watcher; the other man's eyes were wide of shock and fear and his face was very pale as he starred directly at Methos.

Methos finally forced himself to get up as he heard an angry cry coming from the abandoned factory. He only managed a few steps into the direction of the watcher until his legs refused to obey him any longer; with a painful moan on his bloodied lips, he felt to the ground - or would have fallen if the watcher hadn't caught him the last second.

Apparently shocked about his own reaction, the watcher then stared with wide eyes at Methos's face before he shook his head and then tried to back away. "I... I cannot help you, I... I've sworn an oat,... never interfere," he stammered, panic in his voice.

"Please," Methos begged weakly while fresh red blood appeared once again on his lips.

As the noise behind them got louder, the watcher finally came to a decision...


	3. 3

Timothy Wyatt clinched his hands around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white as he starred at the dark street in front of him. Next to him sat the Immortal, Adam Pierson, and starred out of the window without saying one single word.

_Damn, damn, damn_, Wyatt thought angrily at himself for getting into this situation. _I'm a stupid fool... never interfere, and what do I do?... damn... What have I thought? Ok, it was a very unfair fight, four against one; and seeing the bloodied form of the young Immortal helpless lying in front of my feet – I really had to help him... damn, the tribunal will have my head for this..._

A moan coming from the Immortal interrupted his thoughts. Eying the other man, Wyatt saw that the Immortal's face had gone very pale and that his lips were shaking.

"It's so cold in here," the Immortal then whispered, "can you please turn on the heating?"

Although Wyatt considered it hot enough in the car, he did what he was asked for. A few moments later, Pierson groaned once again. The Immortal had closed his eyes; his face was covered in sweat and Wyatt also noticed that the other was breathing very fast now.

Frowning, Wyatt considered if this kind of reaction was normal. He didn't remember ever to have heard of such a strange behaviour after a quickening. Hadn't he known the man to be an Immortal, he had considered him to be ill. _But that couldn't be, or could it?_

He tried to remember what had happened: _the quickening had been very powerful; maybe the Immortal was too young to deal with it? Yes, that must it be... And hadn't been something else a little bit strange? The quickening had not hit the Immortal immediately_, Wyatt remembered now_, no, it had taken some seconds before it had hit Pierson. _Considering now what he had seen, it also seemed to him as if the Immortal had fought the quickening... _And had it really been only one quickening? Or had it been two... no, that couldn't be... two quickening?... DAMN_, he suddenly was very sure, _it had been indeed two quickening... TWO! No wonder that the Immortal was acting a little strange._

He once again glanced at the Immortal next to him who was trembling now as if feeling cold, although it was now very hot – almost unpleasant hot - in the car. "Are you alright?" Wyatt finally asked. Because the Immortal didn't react first, Wyatt had to repeat his question a second time before the man finally opened his now feverish shining eyes and stared at him.

"I'm so cold," the Immortal then whispered with a husky voice.

"I have a blanket in my car; I can stop if you like." Wyatt offered.

The Immortal blinked in confusion before he focused on the watcher again. "Yes please," he then smiled weakly.

A few minutes later, Wyatt opened the door of his car and offered the blanket to Pierson. The Immortal looked for some seconds as he wouldn't know where he was and what was going on; then a slight flicker of recognisation appeared on his face and he smiled again at Wyatt.

"Thank you,"he whispered almost inaudible as he took the blanket.

Examining the other a little bit closer, Wyatt came to the conclusion that something was definitely very wrong with this Immortal: his face was almost totally white now and the widened pupils of his eyes didn't react the slightest bit to the light shining directly into them. But more than that concerned Wyatt the fact that the Immortal looked very confused, his eyes once again unfocused and his mind apparently drifting away.

He shook his head; he would bring the Immortal home and then hurry to his own flat. If he was lucky, he could call his supervisor and tell him about the whole disaster before the watcher of the other Immortals reported him. Sighing deeply, he drove to Pierson's flat.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived. The watcher looked at the Immortal who seemed to be asleep, curled in the blanket, his face against the window. "We are at your flat now," he said.

Waiting for a reaction but getting none, he then shouted a little louder, "Hey, wake up!" No reaction. The watcher then began to shake the other by his shoulder - but still no reaction. As he then touched the Immortal's pale skin, he almost let out a surprised cry: it felt totally hot.

The slight feeling of concern he had felt grew, something was definitely very, very wrong. Feeling the man's pulse, he noticed that it was too low and unsteady. As he opened one of the Immortal's eyes, he only saw the white there. The Immortal was definitely not sleeping, he almost looked as in deep coma instead.

_Damn_, Wyatt thought in raising panic, _what to hell shall I do with you now?... Why have I interfered, damn, damn... now I have the mess. _

Wyatt forced himself to calm down as he looked again at the young Immortal, trying to come up with something as his cell phone suddenly rang. "Wyatt,"he answered, and almost dropped it as he recognized the voice of his supervisor, James Cook, at the other end.

"It's me, Cook... where to hell are you? I got a call from Dick Brahms, a watcher who is assigned to de Court and his little gang. He claimed that you've consorted with your Immortal... You cannot imagine what' s up here now. I suggest that you better come to HQ immediately and tell that he's wrong... I mean, he is wrong, isn't he?"

Wyatt heard his heart beating very fast as he clinched the phone; his worst nightmare had come true.

"Wyatt, tell me that he is wrong!"he heard the other demand.

"I...," Wyatt subbed, "I... he needed my help; I couldn't let him lay there."

"What? You're surely not telling me that you helped an Immortal!" came the shocked reply.

"He... something is wrong with him. I mean, he is in coma now and..."

"What?" Cook interrupted him aghast, "he is still with you?!!"

"I... yes."

"I don't believe it... This is totally insane, Wyatt. Have you forgotten your oath? The tribunal will kill you for this... What the hell have you thought?"

"I haven't thought... I saw his bloodied face and I decided that I couldn't let him there. I mean, he was totally helpless... and now he doesn't react at all; he behaves as he would be ill... What shall I do now?" he then whispered helplessly.

His supervisor sighed deeply, then he finally ordered," come to HQ. Bring the Immortal with you; we deal with him later. If he is really in coma, we cannot risk him being brought to a hospital and examined. It's better if he stays with us... I mean, he was a watcher once, it shouldn't be a problem when he wakes up, he already knows us. And to you... you will be arrested and this whole mess will be examined. You are still young, maybe we can persuade the tribunal to only remove you from your assignment and give you a job in research – if you are lucky, very lucky that means."

After Cook had hung up, Wyatt leaned against his car and closed his eyes. His whole body trembled as he imagined what was waiting for him. _What a mess_, he thought in fear. His only hope was that the tribunal hadn't killed Dawson for consorting with his assignment, so maybe he also would get away with his head intact. "Damn," he whispered as he entered his car to drive to HQ.


	4. 4

_To all: Thank you for reviewing! _

_To Village-Mystic: '**Well he knows about cars and heat in cars, so at least you gave us the hint it will be partial amnesia.' **__I have to confess that I smiled reading your review (and that's the reason why I update the fic today). Methos knows his real name shortly after the quickening, he knows his watcher... and he also still knows about heat in cars – yes, but that is before he falls into coma; and who knows what the coma combined with the still not settled strange quickening does to him :-)_

_To EvilGiggles: I'm waiting for the promised chapter :-)_

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**A watcher hospital, three days later**

Dr. Tamia Wildwather, a 41-year-old Indian psychiatrist, looked at Dr.Green who was still shaking his head in disbelief.

"I really don't understand it," he said, "we checked the Immortal very thoroughly, but we were not able to find the reason for the coma. His body is completely healthy, there's no single injury left, but his mind remains in coma."

"It must have to do with the quickening," another man, a 50 year old French watcher, threw in. "I mean, Wyatt told us that Pierson actually received two quickening, and he also said that they were a bit strange... Obviously, something went wrong - very, very wrong. I already asked the researchers if there is something similar to this in the chronicles, but they say no... I don't think that we can do anything else than wait for him to wake up on his own. Maybe he will be able to explain what happened." Dr. Wildwather saw his eyes gleaming in fascination as he starred at the Immortal. She guessed that he was considering what else the watchers could find out having a real Immortal to ask first hand.

She turned and followed his look through the window leading to the room with the Immortal. He was laying in a white bed, connected to several monitors that showed his vital-signals. His face was very pale, almost the same colour as the white pillow his head was resting on, and he looked very vulnerable. The relaxed features made him appear even younger than he was. She would have guessed him at 24 at best, although she knew that he was older – but not very much as she remembered from his file. According to it, Adam Pierson had been killed a few years ago during the Kalas incident and had become the student of Duncan MacLeod shortly after.

She shook her head as she felt sorrow rise in her stomach. _Poor kid_, she thought, _life really hasn't been nice to you, first Kalas and now this mess. If this is the prize for Immortality, I really don't want it. _

Suddenly the monitors controlling his heart rate began to speed up and a warning-signal rang behind her, indicating that the patient was beginning to wake up.

"He's waking up," a nurse's voice confirmed her thoughts.

As the doctor and his assistant left the room to hurry to the patient, Dr. Wildwather watched the Immortal suddenly open his eyes and stare directly into hers. She blinked as she found herself looking into deep green seas, a colour her grandfather, the former medicine man of her tribe, had called magical once. She remembered him to have said that people with these kinds of eyes were very special.

Unable to tear herself away from these incredible eyes, she continued to stare into them, suddenly feeling herself being dragged down into... eternity? Abruptly they changed their colour into gold before they finally blurred and the young Immortal lowered his lashes, closing his eyes again. At the time the doctor and the nurses reached him, he had drifted to sleep again.

Dr. Wildwather blinked in confusion before she finally turned around and looked at her clock. Although she didn't know the reason, she felt a strange tension in her stomach. She shook her head in slight anger at herself; this man was a patient as any other patient, only because he was Immortal wouldn't change a single thing. She would go and look after her other patients now, she decided as she tried to push the disturbing image of the green eyes out of her mind.

**6 hours later**

First, there was only darkness, and then a slight echo of a thought, the thought that something had gone wrong, very, very wrong. He didn't know what that meant and he really didn't want to think about it. Instead, he wanted to remain where he was, remain in the pleasant space between being and not being where he didn't have to think, to feel or to care.

Forcing the bothering thought away, he let himself being embraced again by welcomed darkness ... until he suddenly became aware of a rhythmical sound - a sound that once again invaded his peace, forced him to think again – to be again. He wished that the sound would stop, but his hope was in vain. The sound got louder and louder and dragged him back to consciousness... He felt something soft covering his hands, his whole body. He opened his eyes...

... and found himself laying in a white room. When he lifted his head, he spotted to his right and left strange grey objects. Several moments later, he identified these things as the source of the sounds that had disturbed his peace not long ago. He also noticed that he was connected to these objects via black and red ropes, although the ropes not really looked like ropes to him.

When he tried to sit up, he could hear the sounds get faster. Lowering his right hand, he saw a small silver thing sticking in his flash that was connected to an also strange looking object next to him. It was silver and very high. On top of it hung a small transparent bag in which he could see some liquid. He shook his head, _how strange_.

His thoughts were disturbed by some people entering through a door at the other side of the room. He was confused as he starred at these people, _who were they? Priests?_ He came to the conclusion that they really had to bee priests because they wore strange looking white clothes and one of them had a silver-red necklace around his neck. This had to be the high priest, he decided.

The high priest smiled at him, and then said something in a language he didn't understand. He saw the man frowning when he didn't answer. Then the priest then came closer and took something out of his cloth while he continued to speak in this alien language.

_Where am I and what do these people want from me?_ He tried to remember how he had gotten into this situation but only found a black whole were his thoughts should have been. Fear rose in him as he realized that he wasn't able to remember, remember why he was here and more important: WHO he was. _No, that can't be_, he thought in panic, _I must remember, I must have a name _– but there was still nothing.

Cold sweat covered his body as he felt his own heartbeat speed up. From a very far distance he heard the hectic shouts of the priests and the now very fast sound of the strange objects he was connected to. He screamed in fear; panic overwhelmed him and he was no longer able to think rational. Feeling himself pressed down, he tried to fight; he kicked and bit around until he finally felt a single sharp pain in his right arm. Then his eyes began to feel heavy and peaceful darkness claimed him again.

Dr. Green looked aghast at the now relaxed form of the Immortal as he took the silver-red stethoscope, his patient almost had pulled from his neck, and staffed it in his pocket. He really hadn't expected such a reaction; his patient had gone totally insane. That had left him with no other choice than to inject the young man with a sedative to calm him down.

"What the hell was that?" he asked his assistant, a young man of 30, who had helped him hold down the patient. A look at his face was enough answer for Dr. Green, his assistant looked as stunned as he felt himself.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dr. Green finally said," something is very, very wrong. Call Dr. Wildwather. I think we need her here when he wakes up again; this is definitely a case for a psychiatrist, not for a plain medical doctor like me."

As his assistant did as ordered, Dr. Green continued to stare at the young Immortal, deep in thoughts what they should do now.

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_Notes: The thoughts Methos has before he wakes up, and the annoying sound of the heartbeat-machine are inspired by my own 'lucky' experience with hospitals and unconsciousness. So, I know what I'm writing about :-)_


	5. 5

**_Thank you two for reviewing!_**

**_To joslin: Joe is in his bar, he still knows nothing about the incident; nobody has informed him yet. (But he will make an appearance in the next chapter)_**

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**8 hours later, watcher hospital**

About eight hours later, Dr. Wildwather sat in a comfortable chair next to the young Immortal and examined him closely. He recently had awoken again and was now laying with a still pale face in his bed. He made a very tired impression to Dr. Wildwather, a side effect of the sedative he had been given again to keep him relaxed. There were shadows of sleep visible in his eyes as he tried to stay awake and focus on her.

Smiling at him, she pointed with her right hand to herself. "Tamia Wildwather," she pronounced her name. Then she pointed at him and said, "Adam Pierson."

First, she saw confusion in his green eyes – but only for a second – a moment later, he obviously understood and repeated, "Adm Pirsn."

"No," she smiled, "A-dam Pier-son," she stressed the words.

He nodded and then once again repeated his name, this time correctly.

Dr. Wildwather had been very surprised as they had discovered that he had not only lost his language but was also speaking in a strange one instead. She had asked the language experts about it, but they hadn't been able to tell her which language this could be. So she had guessed that he must have picked it up with the two quickening – maybe a strange side effect?

Forcing these thoughts away, she pointed again at herself, "Tamia Wildwather."

"Tamia Wildwather," he repeated. She had to give him credit: he had her name pronounced correctly the first time he tried – apparently he was a fast learner.

Both managed several other words before his eyes began to get heavier and heavier and his mind started to drift away. Finally no longer able to fight the drugs, he surrendered to sleep.

**Next day**

At the next day, Adam, who was still slightly sedated, was showed by a male nurse how to use the bathroom correctly. He learned very fast; obviously he began to remember things again when someone showed him how. That was an indicator that he not really had lost his memory; he only seemed not able to access it.

Later, both he and Dr. Tamia Wildwather sat in front of a table, two tablets with lunch placed on it. Apparently not knowing what to do with the flatware, he looked expectantly at her. She smiled as she took the fork and explained, "fork."Then she pronged a bean onto it and inserted it into her mouth, chewing several moments on it before she finally swallowed it.

He watched her for some moments with interest, then he tried to imitate her. She could see his face twist as he chewed on the bean – according to the slight disgusting-looking expression on his face, he was apparently not a big bean-fan. Smiling, she ordered him some chips together with a cutlet instead, what obviously complied with his taste much better. Although at the beginning a little bit clumsy – several chips landed on the floor and not in his mouth - he learned very fast how to handle the flatware the right way.

Feeling almost a bit proud of him, her smile widened... a second later, she shook her head mentally at herself: for a moment she almost had felt like a proud mother – not a behaviour that was professional for a psychiatrist. _He is a patient_, she thought angrily at herself, _not my son_. Eying him a little closer, she had to confess that there was something about him – an aura of vulnerability that made people want to adopt and keep him safe.

The next hours they spent together while she showed him the ground of the watcher hospital. Sitting down outside in the small garden, she then began to teach him new words the same way she would have small children. She showed him small plates with things like the sun or an animal printed on it and pronounced its name before she let him repeat it.

The next eight weeks continued this way: both spending time together, learning words.

At one day, he had cut himself accidental with a knife. She had found him starring in fascination at his healing finger while he made one cut after the other into it. It had been a bit tricky to explain him the reason, but she had have the impression that he accepted his Immortality very well. She had also explained him about the watchers at that time, relieved that he hadn't seemed shocked about the whole thing.

**12 weeks later**

About twelve weeks later - after a very intensive daily training - he was able to communicate with her in English again. Apparently, he had not really forgotten the English language but had only needed a refreshing to access it again - although it was a little bit surprising for Dr. Wildwather that he now was totally lacking any accent. According to what she had heard about him, he definitely had spoken with a very distinct British accent before. Not being able come up with a rational reason for that strange effect, she finally decided to blame it on the strange quickening.

During the last weeks she had also considered to contact Joe Dawson, who was said to be a friend of Pierson, but then at the end had decided against it. Maybe it was better for Adam to remember in slight steps, too much at once could prove disastrous. So she came to the decision to show him things of his past first before they would continue with persons; Joe Dawson and Duncan MacLeod would have to wait.

Trying to come up with some suitable things of his past they could start with, she had spoken to Dr. Zoll, Adam's former supervisor, and found out that he had liked to spent time in a room called 'Immortal Hale of Fame' at watcher HQ. The room showed pictures and belongings of several Immortals, all of course dead. Dr. Wildwather hoped that maybe a familiar surrounding would help him to relax and remember - and if not, no harm would be done.

**2 hours later, watcher HQ**

Together with Dr. Wildwather, he entered a long room that was illuminated by many lights. In there he could see some glass showcases containing lots of staff: for example axes and swords of different size and style. At the walls hung pictures showing different persons, some of it were photos, others paintings.

"Adam," he heard Dr. Wildwather call him from behind. _Adam_, he thought as he turned to face her. The name held no meaning for him as if it not really belonged to him. He had repeated it repeatedly in his mind, pronounced it in as many different ways he had been able to come up, but it had remained empty to him.

She was smiling at him as she continued, "I will leave you alone now for one hour. It's better if nobody disturbs you... And don't try to force the memories; they will come back when you are ready... Take your time!"With a last encouraging smile in his direction, she then turned and left him alone.

For some terrible moments he felt frightened and helpless. Then he forced himself to relax again; he was safe here, nobody would harm him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten; then he had himself again under control enough to step to the first picture to his right.

It showed a beautiful dark-haired woman; the white nameplate that was installed under the photo read Nefertiri. He starred at her face, but she brought no familiar memories to him. After focussing on it for some moments, he finally stepped to the next picture that showed a very ugly looking man with a glad head and an ugly scar around his neck– still not familiar. He looked at the nameplate: The Kurgan. _The Kurgan_, he repeated in his mind as he tried to decide if this was actually a name or something else.

He wandered along the showcases and pictures until he suddenly stopped. His heart began to speed up as he found himself drawn to one of the pictures by an invisible force. It was the picture of a dark-haired man with a small scar over his right eye who was grinning evilly at him. The nameplate read Kronos. _Kronos_, the name echoed in his mind – it definitely had a meaning to him. Trying to remember, he closed his eyes and focused on the familiar sound of the name. For a second he actually meant to catch a memory, but then it slipped.

A bit disappointed, he opened his eyes again and stared at the three weapons that hung next to the picture: two swords and one axe. The sword in the middle looked very impressive: its handle looked like an approximate 9 inches and it had triangular protrusions under the very impressive-shaped guard. As he looked a little closer, he saw a "blood groove" that went down the middle of this blade. He couldn't help himself but had the impression that he knew the sword. The nameplate that was placed under the swords read 'swords of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse'.

As he looked up again, he discovered two other pictures hanging on the other side of the weapons. They showed two dark-haired men; the first looked like a maniac to him; the other - Silas, he read - there was something about him that made his stomach knot. His throat tightened as he closed his eyes; there was a slight feeling of pain and guilt connected to this man, although he couldn't explain why.

Drawn by an invisible force, he then extended his right hand and toughed the weapons next to him. Crying in surprise as he cut himself at the middle sword, he starred at the blood that appeared on it. While he watched in fascination the deep-red blood run down the silver shining blade, pictures suddenly appeared in his mind: pictures of him and these three men together sitting around a fire. They were laughing and the man with the scar was calling him brother. "Brother," he whispered - he liked the sound. Feeling something deep in him respond to the word, he smiled.

"Have you remembered something?" suddenly the voice of Dr. Wildwather coming from behind, interrupted his thoughts. Surprised, he turned and starred at her smiling face. For a moment he considered telling her about his memories, but then there was suddenly a voice in his mind that told him not to - it was better to trust nobody. He forced a smile on his face as he lay, "no, nothing."

Dr. Wildwather looked at the young Immortal in front of her. She had returned a little bit earlier and had entered the room without him noticing. Staying almost in trance in front of the Horsemen weapons, he had looked... she really wasn't able to describe it, but his face had for a moment seemed to be old – very, very old, almost alien. And there had been a slight flicker of something dark on his face as he had smiled. For a moment, he hadn't looked like Adam at all... but the moment was gone, and she found herself once again face-to-face with a vulnerable young man. She shook her head, she must have been wrong: Blaming it on the light, she finally pointed to the exit. "Let's go!" Both left the room together, not noticing that behind them a small drop of blood remained on the sword.

**Night, Dream**

He found himself standing in a complete white room; in front of him laid a sword on a white socket, placed on a pillow of blue velvet. He knew the sword; it was the one he had seen in watcher HQ. Taking it in his right hand, he suddenly saw blood drop down the silver shining blade to the white floor. As he examined it a bit closer, he noticed a trace of small blood-drops that led out of the room.

Following it, he reached another room; this time it was a dark room, the ground full of blood, in which he discovered thousand of bodiless heads that were smiling at him. Then some of it suddenly began too laugh at him while others shouted in different languages 'that he had no name and no face... that he was a nobody'.

"No," he shook his head in denial as he pressed his hands onto his ears to stop the screams. Backing away, he suddenly tripped over something and felt to the ground that now looked like a mirror; but it didn't reflect his face – instead there was nothing.

"No," he shouted in fear as he got up again. Turning, he then tried to run to the door, consumed by the burning desire to escape the terrible laughter – but the door suddenly vanished in front of his eyes. In blind panic he then once again turned around, and found himself face-to-face with the dark-haired man with the scar. The man smiled at him as he offered him a hand. "Brother," the other then addressed him, "come and join me."

Panting heavily, Adam opened his eyes and found himself sitting in his bed. With his right hand he wiped the cold sweat from his face before he let himself sink back to the bed again, the dream still vivid in his mind. He had been dreaming of this man, Kronos, since the visit in the watcher HQ; the man always turned up to rescue him in different kind of ways. Sometimes the other two men, Caspian and Silas, also appeared, and they sat around a fire or were riding on horses through a desert.

He was sure now that he knew the men, and that not only from books or pictures. No, he must have met them personally. The problem was that he couldn't ask the doctor about it – she had told him about his life, and the Horsemen had not been mentioned.

Considering the language he had talked in when he had woken up the first time, the short memory-flash he had have since seeing the weapons and pictures of the Horsemen and his dreams, that all made him believe that there was more to him than the watchers, including the good doctor, knew - something he had not told them, a secret. _A secret that is better to be kept_, a voice whispered in his mind. So he decided to keep silent about the dreams and continue as Adam Pierson until the moment he would finally get his memory back.

**Next day, watcher hospital**

At the next day, Dr. Wildwather and her patient sat in a typical therapy-room. She smiled warmly at Adam as she took a paper out of her bag and laid it together with a pencil on her desk. Then she looked up and began to ask, "you said that you were having dreams... can you remember what they were about?"

Examining him very closely, she saw him hesitate for a moment before he looked her directly into the eyes. "No, not really... I wake up and I can't remember much." He hesitated once again before he continued, "I think that there is a person in my dreams... it's always the same one." He stopped and stared at the floor.

_A person... that's a very interesting development_, Dr. Wildwather thought to herself. Wanting to know more about it, she continued with her questions. "Can you describe the person... I mean, is it a man or a woman? How does the person look like?"

He continued to stare at the floor; then he finally looked up again. "A man... with dark hairs."

"And what does he do?"

"I think...," his voice was only a whisper, "I think he tries to help me... I," once again hesitation, "I feel safe with him."

"Good," Dr. Wildwather answered with an encouraging smile on her face. "That's definitely a good sign, Adam. The man must be a very important person to you, else you wouldn't see him in your dreams... And you feel safe with him, that's an indicator that he is really close to you."

Hesitating for a second, she considered showing him a photograph of MacLeod; maybe it was the right time now to confront him with his teacher. Coming after a few moments to the decision that Adam was ready for it, she took a photo of the Scot out of her bag and laid it in front of him. "I want you to have a look at this picture," she said. "And take your time."

Examining his reaction very closely, she watched him look very interested at the photo. For a moment his face was expressionless, then his eyes widened a bit – he definitely remembered something. After a minute, he looked up again.

"I think I know him; he looks familiar... who is he?"

"Is he the man in your dreams?" she wanted to know.

His lashes trembled when he hesitated for some moments - as if considering what to answer. Then he finally looked at her and said, "yes... yes, I think that's the man."

"He is your teacher MacLeod... I tell you something, we make a break here, and I give you later some more details about him... It's better for you if we proceed step by step; too much at one point is not good for you. So I suggest that you eat something and relax a bit, and we meet here in three hours again if that's alright with you."

She smiled at him as he left the room. That he was remembering Duncan MacLeod in his dreams was definitely a good development; apparently they were on the right way... maybe it was time for a personal meeting after all. Deciding to call Joe Dawson, she then hurried to have a closer look at MacLeod's chronicles so that she would be able to give Adam some details about the man later.

**Outside the therapy-room**

After he had shut the door behind him, Adam leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a second. He had lain to Dr. Wildwather, although he was not able to explain the reason – no, that was not right, he was able, he corrected himself: He didn't think – no, he was sure – that the good doctor would have reacted not very well if he had told her the truce about his dreams. Stories about bodiless heads that were talking to him and other bloody dreams in which he slaughtered small children and woman may be interpreted the wrong way. They would very likely not encourage the doctor to let him walk out of this hospital soon; no, instead they would more likely cause her to throw him into a cell - full of drugs and secured in a straitjacket.

He trusted her – as much as he was able to trust somebody – but he really didn't need that. And he really didn't want her to get wrong ideas; so he had decided that it was better not to tell the truce about the man he was seeing in his dreams. Kronos and the others were obviously bad guys – as much he had guessed as he had seen their pictures, their impressive weapons and not to forget his violent dreams that pointed strongly into the same direction. And telling her about his feelings towards these guys... yes, that would definitely not be a good idea.

He sighed deeply as he opened his eyes again. The man on the photo had also seemed somehow familiar to him - not as much as Kronos, but familiar. And hadn't there also been a slight feeling of safety when he had looked at his face?

Forcing these thoughts away, he finally hurried to get himself something to eat. The doctor was right after all: he shouldn't force the memories; they would come back when he was ready.

* * *

_Notes: the description of Kronos's sword is taken from the following site: _

_Some words that shall help you understand Methos's reactions during the whole story a bit better (please keep that in mind when you read it):_

_First: I assume that Methos had really brotherly feelings towards Kronos and Silas (after all they were his family for about 1000 years). He only gets slight flashes of memory; and he only remembers the good time and has a positive feeling towards them._

_Second: Methos loved the feeling of power back in his Horsemen time (he said it himself to Duncan) and so he still likes it now._

_Third: Between Duncan and Methos was always a bit tension after the Horsemen; in contrast, the relationship between Joe and Methos seemed to grow closer after the Morgan incident._

_And last: (I think I read it in 'An Evening at Joe's') Methos takes quickening very badly, that's the reason he had avoided them the last 200 years. I__n my story, every quickening makes him a bit darker, bringing him back to his ways as Death._

_So, hope that helps a bit to understand the upcoming chapters!_


	6. 6

_**To all: Once again much thanks for the kind reviews!**_

_Village-Mystic__: Thanks! I always had problems with lay and lie (hope I manage to continue correctly). And a word to the accent: I've never seen the original English episodes but only the synchronized ones instead; so I relied on other sources – apparently they are incorrect :-(_

_Joslin: If I was a watcher scientist, I would be very interested to have my own 'tame' Immortal to ask first hand; so I wouldn't tell Joe ;-)_

* * *

**Next day, Joe's Bar**

Duncan MacLeod smiled happily as he opened the door to Joe's bar. The last months with Connor had been absolutely great; he felt so completely relaxed now as he had not during the last 10 years.

Letting his smile widen as he noticed the woman in the bar starring at him, he made his way to Joe, who was standing behind the bar and speaking to a customer. The moment Joe looked up and discerned him, Duncan's smile froze. Joe looked as if altered rapidly during the last weeks: his face showed an unhealthy grey colour and his eyes looked dull; is whole appearance screamed that something was terrible wrong.

Placing a beer in front of his customer, Joe indicated him with a nod to wait in the back room. Some moments later, he then followed Duncan and closed the door behind them.

"Joe, what's wrong?" Duncan wanted to know, concern making his voice tremble slightly. Panic began to rise in his heart as he thought about Amanda and Methos.

"It's Methos, Mac," Joe then confirmed his fear with a husky sounding voice. "Dr. Wildwather, a watcher psychiatrist, called me yesterday. She told me that Adam fought FOUR Immortals at the same time... he got away alive but it was damn close." He hesitated for a moment before he continued, "he took two quickening at the same time, Mac."

"No." Duncan felt is heart-rate speed up. _If Methos had taken two quickening, and that in addition simultaneously - that would be bad, very, very bad. The Ancient had never assimilated them well... And two at the same time, that..._

"He is in a psychiatric watcher hospital, and that for several months now," Joe then interrupted his thoughts. "He... apparently he... he lost his memory, Mac... He remembers nothing: not me, not you, not his name, not this century... not even the language – absolutely nothing: he has amnesia!... Damn watchers! If I had known, I would have insis..."

Duncan blinked, no longer paying attention to Joe – time seemed to freeze for some moments as the word 'amnesia' echoed in his mind. The only sound he heard was his blood roaring in his own ears as the face of Cochrane appeared in front of his eyes. _No_, he thought in rising fear, _that cannot be, not Methos, not the Old Man._ "No, Joe, that can't be true," he shook his head in denial, not wanting to believe what he had heard, "they must have mixed Methos with another Immortal."

Joe looked him directly into his eyes; the expression on his face was that of pure sadness. "It's true, Mac. I've seen the videotapes... it's definitely Methos... Maybe it's better you see it with your own eyes." With that, he took a tape out of his safe-box and inserted it into the video recorder.

A second later, Duncan saw Methos lying in a big white bed, around him several monitors that showed his vital signals. Duncan felt his heart hurt as he starred at his friend's relaxed face; he looked so... so young and vulnerable - almost like a kid. It made Duncan want to take him into a big hug and never to let go of him.

A few moments later, he watched Methos wake up and look confused at the surroundings. Then a doctor and his assistant entered and Methos went maniac. He began to shout in an ancient language and attack the doctor until he was held down by the assistant and another male nurse as the doctor sedated him.

Duncan shook his head in shock as he sat down next to Joe, no longer able to stand on his own feet. His hands trembled slightly as he starred at the now dark screen.

"That is not the only tape," Joe then whispered with a strange sounding voice as he stood up to exchange the tapes. When he returned to sit down, Duncan saw that Joe's face was pale, almost as pale as the wall behind him.

Then his attention was drawn back to the screen. Methos once again appeared there; he was standing in a room full of several objects, next to him a small woman in a white coat. She had long black hairs with a blue shimmer in it and looked like a native Indian to MacLeod. Although she was not young, she seemed to be full of life and had a very beautiful aura around her that made MacLeod like her at first sight. The woman was pointing with one hand at a computer. "Computer," she pronounced with a very gentle and beautiful voice.

"Computer," he then heard Methos repeat as he examined the PC a little bit closer. "What it use?" he then asked a little bit wrong but with an interested expression on his face.

His voice sounded strange in Duncan's ears: it was deeper than usual and the pronunciation was a bit different to his usual one. And his face... that was not Methos, not the Methos he knew; instead of the typical cynical face with the slight amused expression he knew so well, he found himself staring now at a vulnerable and young looking one – too young.

At the screen, he then saw the doctor smile at Methos/ Adam. "You mean 'what you can do with it'... wait a minute, I show you." She then booted the PC and explained to Adam how to use it. Then the video ended.

The room was silent for some moments, neither Duncan nor Joe spoke a single word.

Finally Duncan got up, his face white. "I have to see him, Joe... He needs my help now. I..."

"And what will you do then, Mac? The doctor looks after him now... I don't like it either, but I really believe that it's best for him to stay were he's now. He knows the doctor, Mac, and he knows the hospital - he feels safe there... but he doesn't know YOU or ME."

Duncan starred at him for some seconds before he stammered with disbelieve in his voice, "Joe... you... you don't mean that... The watchers even don't know who he really is. How should they deal with him?... No, he needs his friends. It's the best if..."

"Damn, Mac," Joe interrupted him tired but very seriously, "do you think I like that? Do you really think I want Methos in the hands of the watchers? I DON'T... But I think it's the only chance Methos has now; the doctor knows how to deal with amnesia – WE DON'T!"

"Joe, I..."

"Mac! Have you forgotten about Cochrane already?... You don't want that to happen to Methos, or do you?... Damn, Mac, we're speaking about 5000 years, 5000! If we're not cautious - and I mean very, very cautious - the whole mess can easily end in a disaster, and that not only for Methos."

"But..."

"No! The doctor told me that it's absolute important that we take slow steps, one by one. He needs time, Mac... And there IS hope: he seems to remember things of his past. The doctor told me that he sees you in his dreams - that's a very good sign... But as I said before: he needs time. Dr. Wildwather thinks that he will be ready in about a week or so to face you in person, but not today... please Mac, give him the time."

Duncan starred at Joe while he confessed to himself that Joe was right. He hated the thought of Methos in the hands of the watchers, but what could he do? Another disaster like the one that had happened to Cochrane he would never be able to forgive himself.

"Alright," he then finally agreed with a slightly depressed voice. "We proceed step by step... but I want to be informed about everything that concerns Methos."

"Good," Joe agreed, and then the room was silent again.

**Watcher hospital, four days later**

Dr. Wildwather sat in her office and watched the screen in front of her while she made some notes on the paper lying on her desktop. The videotape showed her last session with Adam. Wanting to stimulate his memory and also test him for hidden psychical problems, she had given him several words to which he then responded with the first word coming to his mind - so to speak a spontaneous answer.

Subconsciously putting her pencil into her mouth and beginning to chew on it, she starred at the list she had made so far. _Hm...,_ she thought with a slight frown, _strange_. Then she marked five words that had attracted her interest.

**word ---- association**

head ---- hair

flower ---- beautiful

_water ---- drowning_

question ---- answer

green ---- grass

_dead ---- I_

rich ---- poor

love ---- important

_ship ---- drowning_

white ---- black

_blue ---- dead_

sun ---- warm

_war ---- bro… bad_

Especially the word 'war' and its association were very interesting. Adam had not wanted to say 'bad' at first but another word instead. The problem was she hadn't been able to find out which word he originally had intended to say. Spooling the videotape several times back and forward, and watching that particular moment over and over but not getting a better indication, she finally had given up. Instead, she had written down all words she had been able to come up with that began with bro..., but none of it had made any sense in her eyes.

Sighing deeply, she finally laid down her pencil and passed with one hand over her face. Then she closed her eyes in frustration. _His associations don't make any sense... or do they?_ Reopening her eyes, she stared again at the words on her list. Was there a connection between the words she hadn't discovered yet?

_Water – dead – ship – blue – war... Hmmm... _Suddenly an idea appeared in her mind. _Of course_, she thought while she slapped herself with a hand against her brow, _I'm stupid... why haven't I seen it before?... water, ship and blue have indeed a connection: water is blue and a ship normally is in the water. His answer to ship and water was drowning, to blue dead: that could mean that he has almost died once in the water - maybe a ship-accident... And the association 'dead' and 'I' would make under this context sense, too: an almost deadly accident would surly have been a very traumatic event – because of that it could be perfectly possibly for him later to associate the word 'dead' with himself... _To prove her theory, she decided to ask MacLeod or Dawson later about this subject; maybe one of them knew about a tragic event in Adam's life that was connected to water somehow

Then her eyes once again focussed on the term 'war' and his answer; for a short moment she had the strong feeling that she had overseen something - something that was very important. Shaking her head in slight anger at herself, she then forced the unwelcome thought away; her explanation of the words was logical and made sense... besides: Adam was not fluent in English yet, maybe he had mixed two words.

Satisfied with this explanation, she then left her office; it was time to look after her other patients.

**Next day, evening**

He sat in front of the big mirror that was hanging in his room and was starring at his own reflection for more than 2 hours now. A young man with deep green eyes and a big nose looked back at him. Young – he shook his head, young was not a term he would have described himself with. The first weeks after his awakening in the hospital he had felt young, yes, but since his visit in the watcher HQ the moments he felt old, almost ancient had become more and more. And his bloody and violent dreams indicated the same – those weren't the dreams of a young and innocent man.

"Who are you?" he whispered to his reflection. Only silence answered him. He raised his right hand and toughed his reflection, caressing the features with his fingertips.

"Adam?" he whispered. "Are you Adam?" Starring in his own eyes for some minutes, he repeated the name over and over in his mind - but it still remained empty, without any meaning to him. Then he finally shook his head, "no, not Adam... Adam is a lie... but if I'm not Adam, who else I am?"

'Brother', the man with the scar had called him in his dreams... yes, he wanted to be a brother, wanted to have someone he belonged to, someone he could trust with his life, someone who would care for him - but was that all he was, a brother? Was he not more, an own individual with its own name?

Frustration rose in him as he continued to stare at his silent reflection, frustration at his surroundings, at the doctor and at himself for not being able to remember. The eyes in the mirror turned from green to gold; the face hardened as an expression of anger appeared on it.

Anger and frustration increased until he no longer was able to keep his self-control. He clenched his right hand into a fist and hit the face in the mirror with all strength he could manage. A loud rattle sounded through the room, and he watched his reflection in slight satisfaction shatter in 1000 fragments and then fall to the floor.

Starring at the broken glass, his mind needed some seconds to register the pain that was now burning in his right hand. When he looked down at it, he saw red blood and slight flashes of quickening as his injuries closed themselves within seconds, letting only the red blood remain. Sighing deeply, he shut his eyes: 'brother' would do until he would get his name back - after all 'brother' HAD a meaning to him.

Reopening his eyes after some minutes again, he then decided that he should better take care of the glass fragments now; it would very likely cause questions if the doctor heard about it – questions he really had no intention to answer.

* * *

_Notes: When I wrote the watcher hospital part, I had the episode '__Till Death' in my mind. Methos mentioned there two times that he really hates water. He says that he and 6 singing monks crossed the sea to the Iceland; but I don't think that is enough reason to hate water. So I decided that he drowned once (there will be a small reference to it in a later chapter)._

_The method Dr. Wildwather uses on Methos really exists; it's called 'association method' by C.G.Jung (also I changed it a bit)._


	7. 7

_**Thank you two once again for the reviews! It's always nice to know that someone reads (and apparently likes) the story.** _

_joslin: Dr.Wildwather's problem is that she has no clue who she is dealing with. She is missing some very important information, and in addition to that, he also hasn't told her the whole truce about his dreams. Another problem is that she not really misinterpreted his answers (to the test): he HAS a hidden psychical problem with water; so it's not her fault that she interpreted the association blue and Death wrong. And she also decided to ask Duncan about Adam and a water incident... and the answer will not help her - but you better read it. And to Joe: he will have another appearance in two later chapters (only he and Adam)._

_Village-Mystic: 'a flashback scene after the killing of Duncan's ex': a good idea, but the problem is Adam suffered amnesia; so I don't think he remembers her now – the flashback would have to be from Duncan's point of view (I don't think that Methos stayed with Mac after the quickening; but maybe you have a good idea?) – but I have planed a chapter in which Adam will have to deal with the after effects of a quickening (but I don't want to say more now)_ :-)

* * *

**Duncan's loft, next day**

"... and don't touch him," Duncan heard Dr. Wildwather's gentle voice at the other end of the line. She had called him to give him last instructions for his first face-to-face meeting with Adam that was planned in two hours.

"He doesn't know you," she continued at the phone. "I have told him about your teacher-student relationship because he seems to recognize you somehow and because he has the feeling of safety with you. But as I said before, he not really knows you... Maybe seeing you in person will bring some memories back, but we cannot be sure: so please keep your distance!"

Duncan heard her pause for a moment before she continued, "and there is something else: I don't want you to tell him stories about his past unless he asks you specific questions... It is very important that he remembers on his own. It will not help him to hear stories of his life out of your mouth – he could mix it later with real memories, and that's not what we want... You surly understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," he confirmed her; he would do what was best for Adam. Joe and he had talked about how he should act towards Adam; they finally had decided that it would be best if he continued with the teacher-act - although he would no longer have to pretend it because Adam was now indeed a young and inexperienced new Immortal who knew absolutely nothing about the Game.

"By the way," he heard her say," I have a question about Adam, maybe you know something about it. Has he ever shown any dislike or fear, maybe even panic towards water?"

Duncan tried to remember if Methos had ever shown any of the described signs. Hadn't Methos mentioned someday that he hated water? Yes, there had been something... Methos had told him a story about some monks on a boat, but he not clearly remembered what it had been about. "Yes," he then finally answered, "I think he mentioned several times that he hates water very much; and I think he said something about a boat, but I cannot remember it exactly... Why?"

"Oh, nothing," the doctor's gentle voice reassured him. "I only did some tests with him and wondered a bit... but since you confirmed my guess, I think it's nothing... OK," she then finally repeated what they had decided, "you will meet Adam in the garden that belongs to the hospital; he will have more space there and the surroundings will help him to stay relaxed... See you then in two hours. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Duncan replied before he hung up the phone. He sighed deeply, two more hours until he finally would be able to see Methos.

**Garden of the watcher hospital, almost two hours later**

He was sitting under a big oak in the watcher hospital's garden and starred at the flowers in front of him. His heart was beating in excitement as he imagined the meeting between MacLeod and him – he hoped so much that it would help him to remember. Looking at his clock, he saw that he only had ten minutes left until MacLeod would finally arrive.

Suddenly his thoughts were disturbed by a loud noise. As he looked up, he discerned a small woman of about 55 running towards him. She had long ruffled grey hair that stood in all directions from her head and was clothed into the typical white outfit all of Dr. Wildwather's psychiatric patients wore. Apparently this woman had somehow managed to get out of her room. When she came closer, he saw that her eyes were wide open and that they had a crazy glimmer in them as she glared at him.

"Death, Death,... DEATH," she then screamed with a very shrill voice that hurt in his ears. "Death," she hissed again while she pointed with one finger at him. "I know you, Horseman, you may deceive the others, but not me!... I can see you, you and your damned brothers riding; I see you slaughter thousands of men and women... You are DEATH!"

Her words stunned him and made him blink in confusion. As they echoed in his mind, he could feel something deep in him respond to it; a silver skull-mask appeared before his eyes – then the moment was gone and he found himself surrounded by several male nurses who were trying to reassure the screaming woman. While three men guided her back to her room, another explained to him, "don't listen to her, she is crazy... She was a very good watcher once, doing research on ancient Immortals until she snapped some years ago. She claims to see things in her mind... Her supervisors decided to put here under medical care after she had tried to kill one of the Immortals."

The man shook his head before he continued with a slight frown on his face," although I'm a little surprised; I really thought her to be better, but for about thirteen or fourteen weeks she has been acting very badly again – we have to sedate her almost every day... Poor woman is always shouting something about 'Death being here' and 'that she could see him ride with his brothers'. Really crazy if you ask me!... By the way, Dr. Wildwather wants me to tell you that your teacher called. He will arrive in three minutes, so don't get disturbed when you'll feel his quickening." He smiled gently at the young Immortal, "much luck! I hope you remember something." Then he turned and hurried back in the hospital, leaving Adam once again alone with his disturbing thoughts.

A few minutes later, he then suddenly felt a sensation; panic rose in him for a moment and his heart rate began to speed up. This had to be the 'buzz' the doctor had warned him about. Trying to calm down, he reassured himself that it was Duncan he was feeling and that he was not in danger.

Only seconds and he would see him face to face – his teacher. His throat tightened and he could feel his legs weaken as the tension rose in him. Maybe it was too soon for a meeting? Maybe he was not ready yet?

His self-torturing thoughts were then suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a dark-haired man who came towards him, palms open in a non-threatening gesture – it was MacLeod as he recognized from the photo Dr. Wildwather had shown to him.

Hearing his heart beat even faster, he felt his body tremble in slight tension as he examined MacLeod. There was definitely something, an aura about the other man that made him want to trust MacLeod. He was absolutely sure that he knew the man, that they had a past together. He waited for the memories to come – but his hope was ruined: there was still nothing, the black hole in his mind remained empty. For a short moment he felt the overwhelming feeling of disappointed; he had put so much hope into this meeting...

"Hi," a gentle voice then interrupted his depressing thoughts, "I'm Duncan MacLeod, but my friends call me Mac..." The man pointed at the grass in front of them as he smiled at him; it was a very friendly smile that gave him back some hope. "Maybe we should sit down?"

**Duncan**

When Duncan felt the characteristic sensation of Methos's quickening in his head, he began to hurry, not wanting to frighten Adam by it.

The moment he finally discerned him - a lonely figure standing under a big oak in the garden - he felt his heart beat in pain. This young man was definitely not Methos, not the Methos he knew, he had to confess to himself as he looked into the deep green eyes that stared with a somehow fearful expression at him, fear and something else... hope maybe?

The eyes examine him very closely; on Adam's face appeared an expression as if he would be expecting something. After a few moments, a slight flicker of disappointment then crossed Adam's face and Duncan could hear him sigh deeply.

"Hi," Duncan greeted, "I'm Duncan MacLeod, but my friends call me Mac..." He pointed at the grass while he smiled at Adam, "maybe we should sit down?"

After they had settled - Adam with a big distance to MacLeod - Duncan saw once again deep green eyes focussed on him. Then he heard a voice, Methos's voice - although it sounded very strange to him, "you are my teacher." It was a statement and a question together at the same time. Playing nervously with his clock, Adam looked expectantly at Duncan.

"Yes, I'm your teacher," Duncan confirmed him. As he stared at the unsure and young looking man who sat next to him, he felt the strong impulse to hug him and tell him that everything would be fine. But remembering the doctor's orders, he forced himself to keep his distance – although it was very, very hard.

"I don't know what to say," the young voice continued, "... it's a little difficult for me." The green eyes looked for a moment down at the grass again. Duncan heard him take a deep breath before he finally continued, "I mean...," hysterical giggle, "you now me better than I know myself, but I in contrast know almost nothing about you... this is really very hard for me. I should have thousand questions now, but I'm not able to come up with one single one... I..."

"Hey," Duncan said, very glad now that Dr. Wildwather had prepared him for the meeting and this kind of reaction, "it's ok... really." He smiled very gentle. "You don't have to ask questions today, there's so much time later... I've an idea: why not listen to me while I tell you something about my past? So you can get to now me a little bit better. If you've questions then, you're welcome to ask what ever you want to know."

He thanked the doctor once again silently for her advice when he saw relief appear on Adam's face. His body seemed to relax a bit as he starred with interested eyes at Duncan, finally nodding for him to begin.

**1 hour later, watcher hospital**

After they had parted about one hour later, he had gone to his room to be alone. He had told the doctor that he would need some time for himself to assimilate the new information.

Sitting at his bed now, his feet drawn up with his hands around to his body, he starred at the white wall in front of him while his inner-self was in uproar. The meeting had been a disappointment for him. He had hoped so much that the personal contact with his teacher would bring his memories back, maybe not all but at least some. Alone one single flicker of a memory would have been enough - but he had gotten nothing instead.

And Duncan had called him 'Adam' the whole time... 'Adam'. He had hoped so much for a hint that MacLeod knew his real name, but there had been none. And Duncan also had confirmed him that they knew each other only for a short time.

He continued to stare at the wall... After a few minutes, a disturbing thought suddenly appeared in his mind: _what if MacLeod is right? Maybe my name is really Adam and I imagine things?_ _Yes, I have seen that man with the scar in my dreams and I felt a connection... but is this really my own memory? Or is this only an after-effect of the strange quickening I got? Can I trust my feelings and thoughts any longer? Are they really my own?_

He couldn't be sure. And to be honest: this 'Adam Pierson life' made much more sense to him than any other explanation he had been able to come up with. The doctor had explained him about his life, where he came from, his early years and his time in the watchers; and she had said that he was not older than 30 years. When during this time could he possibly have met Kronos and the other two Immortals in person? And why should they have called him brother?

But on the other hand, he sometimes had the feeling that he was old, very old; and there were also those pictures of the past in his dreams... only memories he had received through the quickening? It was possible... maybe one of the Immortals, he had taken, had killed one of the three men he was seeing in his dreams - or maybe there had been a fourth man?

He sighed deeply, there had also been that crazy woman in the garden today, screaming at him about his brothers riding on horses. She must have indeed seen something or why else should she have known about his dreams. And the male nurse had also said that she had been screaming about the Horsemen for about 13 weeks now... was this not the time he had arrived here?

He pulled the blanket around his shoulders and closed his eyes in frustration. It was all so confusing... nothing made real sense. He once again sighed deeply; not knowing who he was made him feel vulnerable – a feeling he really hated.

After continuing to stare for about one hour at the white wall in front of him, he finally decided to give the teacher-student-thing a try, he would be Adam - at least as long as he couldn't come up with something else.


	8. 8

_**Thank you all very much for the reviews – I really appreciate them! **Some words why I update every day at the moment: I only have this week left before my holidays are over; and I don't know how much time I have later to finish the story (there will be likely then only one chapter or so per week)._

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**Two weeks later, Duncan's loft**

Almost two weeks had passed since Adam and Duncan's first meeting. After visiting Adam every day a little bit longer in the watcher hospital, Adam finally seemed to trust him enough to come with him for some hours to his loft. Dr. Wildwather had been sceptical at first, not sure if Adam was ready yet; but at the end it had been Adam who had persuaded her to allow him to go.

As they then finally stood together in Duncan's loft, Duncan eyed Adam very closely, watching him walk around and touch some of his antiques. After a few minutes, Adam finally turned around, disappointment shown on his face.

"I remember nothing," he said, "although it seems familiar somehow."

"The doctor said that you would very likely not remember the place... Come, sit down." Duncan pointed with an encouraging smile at his leather sofa, "I have a cold beer for you in my refrigerator."

"Have I been here regularly?" Adam wanted to know behind him as Duncan went to the refrigerator.

"We trained a lot in the dojo together, and you sometimes stayed overnight on my sofa," Duncan explained a few moments later as he turned to bring back the beer, almost dropping it as he saw Adam's form sprawled in typical Methos-like manner on the sofa - some things obviously never changed. "Here," he said as he then placed one beer in front of the other Immortal.

Adam nodded his thanks to him and then grabbed the beer to take a sip, immediately twisting his face into a grimace. "Aggg, this is horrible," he then complained before he took another sip.

"Obviously you DO remember something; the last time I offered you this beer, you also complained about its flavour." _Although it didn't stop you from drinking all of it,_ he added silently in his mind as he grinned at Adam.

"This is a good sign, isn't it?" Adam smiled, "maybe I should drink more of your terrible beer then."

They talked about two hours about several things until the conversation was suddenly about swords. "I have your sword here, Adam. The watchers handed it over to me to keep it for you." Duncan didn't mention that he had pressed Joe to get it for him. Then he hesitated for a second, "do you like to see it?"

Adam's face went pale for some seconds and his green eyes widened as he starred at Duncan. Finally he managed a slight nod.

"OK, wait a minute. I have it in the dojo." A few minutes later, Duncan returned and placed the Ivanhoe in Adam's slight trembling hands.

He watched a smile appear on Adam's face as the other starred at the sword. Then Adam raised his right hand and touched it, going gently with his fingertips over the whole blade. "It's beautiful," he whispered with a husky voice. After a few minutes, he took it into his right hand and made some blows into the air with it. "It feels so natural in my hand – as if it would belong there." Green eyes looked at Duncan again. "Can I keep it? I feel safer with it."

Duncan smiled at him; this was a very good sign. Obviously, something in Adam remembered the importance of having a sword for an Immortal. "It's yours, of course you can keep it... By the way, I think it's time for you to refresh your training with me. I already talked with your doctor about it, she agrees with me that we both should take up our training sessions again." Duncan grinned at Adam and a slight sardonic expression appeared on his face, "I get you tomorrow at 7.00 p.m., be ready then."

"But," Adam immediately complained with a twisted face and a whining voice, "why so early? I still sleep at that time."

A pure Methos-like reaction that made Duncan grin even wider. "Not tomorrow... and pack some good shoes, too, we'll run some rounds before we'll start the fighting-lessons."

"What?!!"

Seeing an expression of pure horror appear now on Adam's face, Duncan smiled and grabbed his keys before he hurried to the elevator. "Come on! We must get you back in time, or the good doctor will have my head."

**Watcher hospital**

After they had parted in front of the watcher hospital, Duncan walked back to his car, deep in thoughts about his new relationship to Adam/Methos. Adam had been very unsure at the beginning, not knowing how to judge and behave towards him. But finally he began to show slight signals of trust and also seemed to feel safe in his presence; and what was most important: it also looked as if Adam was beginning to accept him as his teacher.

Duncan smiled; their relationship remembered him strongly at the one they had had before the Horsemen incident. After that, there had always been a slight tension between the two of them - but it had vanished again and now the relationship felt as easy and trusting as before. Although a part of him missed sometimes the cynical old man, another preferred the more open and accessible Adam. He had never been able to understand Methos, his motivations and thoughts, but he was able to understand Adam in contrast. And there was another fact – a fact he would have strictly denied if asked – the fact that in contrary to Methos, Adam depended on him: that he, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, was able to help Adam now - and not the other way around.

**2 weeks later, Duncan's dojo**

"Alright buddy," Adam heard Joe order him, "you stay in here. Don't let someone in until Mac arrives... And keep your little fingers from Mac's alcoholic beer."

"Yes Joe," he agreed with a smile on his face as he guided Joe to the door.

Joe examined him closely, obviously not trusting him, "I mean it, Adam... You know that your doctor wants you to drink less alcohol. I extra ordered some anti-alcoholic beer from Europe for you..."

"Sure," Adam interrupted him quickly while he tried to put a very thankful smile on his face. "And I really appreciate that... You know that." Seeing Joe's expression, Adam doubted somehow that Joe was buying his thankful-act, although he didn't say anything else to this topic.

"Alright, see you then tomorrow." Joe finally nodded goodbye to him and Adam closed the door.

_Anti-alcoholic beer_, he thought in disgust as he twisted his face. _Who to hell wants anti-alcoholic beer? Definitely not I. Shall Duncan drink this... this muck ... no, I definitely stay with the really good stuff instead._ Smiling, he made his way back to Duncan's refrigerator.

While he opened the refrigerator-door, he thought about his first meeting with Joe. Duncan had taken him along to Joe's Bar; they had sat down on one of the tables and listened to the music. He remembered with a smile that Joe had been playing on his guitar at that particular moment – the music had been absolute beautiful. He had closed his eyes and followed the melody, and for a moment he had felt whole again – although he had later not been able to say why this had been so.

Then the music had ended and Joe had discerned them. At that moment, Joe's face had lost all colour and his body had began to tremble badly – for some terrible seconds he really had been afraid that Joe would collapse to the ground. But then a true and wide smile had appeared on the old watcher's face, and his eyes had gleamed while he had come towards them, "Adam!"

Then Joe had hugged him, and although he normally not liked being touched, he had welcomed it that time. There was something between Joe and him that was different to his relationship to the doctor or Mac; it went deeper somehow - as if Joe would be able to accept him totally. He really wasn't able to explain this feeling; he only knew that it was there and that he really liked it.

They had spent the next hours together, Joe telling him some funny stories about MacLeod. It had been a very relaxed and enjoyable evening, he really liked to remember.

He smiled while he took one of the alcoholic beers out of the refrigerator. After opening it, he flipped the lid automatically behind Duncan's refrigerator... then he frowned for a second, rethinking this act. Had he done this before? It had felt so familiar.

Putting down his beer, he then stepped nearer to the refrigerator's back and looked down on the floor. His heart began to beat up in excitement as he discovered some lids lying there. _Yes_, he smiled in joy, _I've done that before_. Grinning, he grabbed his beer again and took it with him to Duncan's leather sofa where he made himself comfortable.

A few minutes later, his cell phone rang; it was Duncan who explained him that he would arrive one hour later because his car had broken down – apparently it had a cooling problem that was now being repaired in a garage.

While Adam waited, he got bored and so finally decided to check Mac's CD collection. He inserted the first CD and pressed the start button... and almost choked at his beer as he heard the terrible sound - this was obviously not his kind of music-taste.

Flipping then through Mac's other CDs, he only found opera, opera and much more opera. He almost had given it up yet as he suddenly discovered another CD that looked a bit different to the others. He inserted it into the player... and almost let out a surprised cry. This voice was familiar to him, very, very familiar. Closing his eyes, he let himself follow the music as suddenly a picture of a man appeared in his mind: the man had black hair, his face was pale and there was something dark about him. Then he heard a voice: "What do you do when there is nothing left but dark, cold emptiness?"

"What?" he blinked in shock and turned around, but there was nobody. Shaking his head, he then took another sip of his beer. _I must have imagined it... or maybe it was a memory?_ His hands trembled slightly as he took the booklet out of the plastic cover to search it through for a picture of the singer.

And then he found it: a dark-haired man with a pale face - exactly the same man he had seen in his mind a few seconds before. And this was not all, next to the photo he discovered a handwriting that read: 'To Doc, never let the music die. Byron'.

Obviously this CD didn't belong to Mac, nobody called him Doc - but whom else? To him? He definitely remembered the man, and his voice also sounded familiar; but why should the other address him as Doc? As he recalled Dr. Wildwather, he never had finished his doctor degree. Maybe this was some kind of joke about it? Or was there something else, something the good doctor didn't know? He decided to ask Mac later while he went to the refrigerator to get himself another beer.

He didn't make it far into the direction when he suddenly felt the presence of another Immortal - but definitely not Mac's. His heart began to speed up as he grabbed his sword and hurried down to the door.

While he waited, thoughts appeared in his mind: _What if I'm not good enough? What if I loose my head?_ He would die without ever being certain if he really was Adam or not. Panic rose in him and he leaned against the wall, painting heavily. He didn't want to die - not now, not ever.

As the fear began to overwhelm him, there was suddenly a voice in him, telling him to calm down and get himself another weapon. _Yes, a second weapon would be a good idea_, he agreed. Hurrying back to Mac's flatware-drawer, he picked a very long knife and hid it in the back of his jeans. Then he went back to the door and waited.

He heard the sound of the bell, then a female voice called, "Duncan?... It's Gina. Please open, I have not much time, my taxi is waiting for me to bring me to the airport."

He considered for some seconds what to do, obviously this woman was a friend of Mac. Then he finally answered through the door, "Mac is not here."

For a moment there was silence, then he heard to his big surprise the woman call his name. "Adam, Darling, is this you? What a great coincidence, we already..."

He no longer listened to her as his thoughts began to race in his mind: _this woman knows me... maybe if I see her face-to-face, then memories will come back to the surface_. Still holding the sword in one slight wet hand, he finally opened the door and found himself staring at a dark-haired woman that smiled happily at him.

"Come in," he invited her while he never let her out of his eyes; _it's always better to be prepared than sorry afterwards,_ a voice whispered in his head.

"Robert and I plan a big party in four weeks in France, and we want to invite you and Duncan." Her smile deepened, "I told Robert to buy some bottles of your favourite beer for the event... Here are the invitations." She placed two white envelopes in his hands and then hugged him while she whispered, "I never can thank you enough for what you have done for us." Then she let go of him again. "I'm sorry that I cannot stay a little bit longer so that we two can have a chat about Duncan, but I really have to go now... And before I forget it: Robert damaged your toaster, so if you should look for a gift...." She twinkled and let the rest of the sentence unfinished. Winking him goodbye, she then disappeared before he even was able to open his mouth.

He blinked in confusion as he closed the door behind her. _A Toaster?_ Shaking his head in bewilderment, he really whished for Mac to arrive soon; he had so much questions to ask.

The doorbell rang again. Believing it to be Gina again, he hurried to open, and found himself confronted with a long sword pointing at his face. In an almost automatic reaction, he tried to slap the door into the other one's face, but was unable to because the other had already placed his right foot between the door and the frame.

Cursing quietly, Adam grabbed his sword a little tighter while he backed away. A big blonde man of about 40, clothed completely in black leather, entered. Apparently chewing on a chewing gum, he examined Adam with an appraising look.

"So, you're the famous Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod... Don't take it personally, but you're not what I had in mind; I always thought you to be a bit more impressive... By the way, my name is Bastiano da Pierro, and I'm here to challenge you."

_Damn_, Adam thought as he backed away a little bit wider, _damn, damn, damn, where are you Mac? _He tried to put a very friendly face on his face as he explained, "I'm sorry, but I'm not MacLeod. He is not here... but he will be in few minutes," he then added quickly, hoping that the other would believe him. "But you can leave a message for him if you like; I really would be happy to deliver it to him."

"Really," the other grinned now. "And who would you be then?... Maybe his student?"

"...Yes... hm... do you want to wait outside? I'm sure he will arrive every minute... or do you want something to drink? I think we have lots of beer here, even anti-alcoholic if you like. But if not, we also have alcoholic here..." Adam knew that he was bubbling now. The problem was the other knew it too.

The grin widened. "No, thank you very much... I think I'll have something else instead." He looked at Adam's neck.

_Oh, oh, not good,_ Adam thought as his throat tightened in fear. "I assure you my head is absolutely not worth taking it."

"Oh," the other grinned, "I think it will do until MacLeod arrives."

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_Notes: This chapter was inspired by the episodes 'The Modern Prometheus' and 'Till Death'. __The sentence Methos hears from Byron is taken out of the episode-script; the handwriting 'To Doc, never let the music die ' is borrowed from methos. org (there is also a nice picture of Byron). And the toaster – I couldn't resist :-)_


	9. 9

_Thank you three for reviewing again – you make me a very happy author!_

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Without another word, the other then immediately attacked with incredible speed. Adam barley managed to jump out of reach as the other tried to land a blow against his sword arm. Thanking Duncan silently for the last weeks of sword training, he then himself tried an attack but was instantly parried by the other Immortal.

"Not bad," he heard the other's amused voice. Then da Pierro feigned a blow from the left side but instead attacked from the right, bypassing his defence and making a long, deep cut into Adam's arm. The other grinned as Adam cried in pain, "but not good enough I'm afraid."

A few minutes later, Adam's whole body was burning in pain. He didn't need to be an Einstein to come to the conclusion that he was loosing. The knowledge that he was going to die here without even knowing who he really was suddenly made him very angry: this was not fair. Fury at the other man, at his fate and at the world in general began to rise in him... increased and finally overwhelmed him in an all consuming hate. He screamed in rage...

... and suddenly found himself staring in the totally surprised face of his enemy. As in slow motion, he saw blood bubbles appear on the other's lips and blue eyes stare at him in total disbelief. A sword shattered to the floor; then his enemy sacked slowly to the ground, wide eyes still fixed in total bewilderment at him. Embedded in the Blonde's chest, Adam discerned the knife he had hidden in his jeans before.

"You," the other then whispered weakly, spitting blood, "... you cheated."He took one last croaking breath, then he lay still – obviously dead.

Adam starred in shock at the dead body in front of him. He really couldn't remember how his knife had come to stick out of the other's chest. His hands trembled as he backed away until he felt the cold wall in his back. What should he do now?

_You now what to do_, a voice answered calmly in his mind, _take his head before he comes back to life and takes yours. _

He stared at the man; cold sweet covered his body while he could hear his own blood roar in his ears, _no I can't do that, I'm not a killer... But what when the other wakes up again? _Mac had told him that it would sometime come to that, that he would have to take another person's head.

_This is about survival_, the voice again whispered in his mind.

He continued to stare at the dead body... seconds stretched to minutes; he felt nothing, thought nothing - his whole universe only consisted of him and the dead body before him.

_You or him_, the voice once again drew attention to it.

"Yes," he finally whispered in agreement, raising the Ivanhoe above his head, "about survival."With one single powerful stroke, he then brought the sword down, serving the other's head from the rest of the body.

For a few seconds, the room was totally silent; then white dust rose from the dead body and the quickening hit him with full force. Screaming in pain, he sank to the floor where he remained on his knees.

Suddenly he saw the big man, Silas, standing in front of him. The other was clothed in a very strange outfit and had his hands behind his back. As Adam took a closer look, he saw that they were standing together in a tent, which was decorated with animal furs. Silas smiled at him and showed him what he had hidden behind: it was a dagger.

"This is for you, brother," the big man smiled as he offered the dagger to him.

He watched himself take the dagger into his hands and examine it a bit closer. It was really a very beautiful weapon: the hilt had a small skull at its end and the dagger lay very well in his hand. "This is beautiful, Silas. Where did you get it?" he heard himself ask.

The face of the other man began to gleam of pride as he answered, "I carved it in wood. Then I asked one of the servants to make it... You like it?"

"Yes, Silas, I like it... this is really beautiful." He watched himself take the other man into a big hug.

With that, the memory suddenly ended. He blinked in confusion as he then felt the quickening change; instead of pain, he now felt energy race through his veins – it felt like the pure essence of power. His screams were no longer full of pain but ecstasy instead... _oh God_, he thought, _this is incredible... so damn good_.

From one moment to the other it then suddenly was over, and he found himself once again weakly on his knees in the dojo, next to him the headless body of da Pierro.

_Wow_, he thought as he tried to get up, his body still trembling in excitement. _This was so... incredible, fantastic, overwhelming... no_, he shook his head, _these words not nearly were able to describe it. _He wanted more of it, wanted to feel the ecstasy again when the energy raced through his body. It was strange: a part of him felt weak now and wanted to remain sitting on the floor; but on the other side, he still could feel the power burn in his body, making him feel full of energy and life.

Smiling, he grabbed his sword and went back to the loft where he helped himself to another beer. Then he started the CD player and turned the music up. While he listened to Byron's voice, he began to dance through the room, in his left hand the beer and in his right the still bloodied sword.

"All that matters is the moment, Doc," he suddenly heard Byron's voice again in his head, together with some really erotic pictures of him, Byron and a dark-haired woman. When he suddenly found himself back in reality again, he was totally hot. _Wow_, he thought, _I have to do something about that_. After switching on the TV, he zapped through the canals in search of something erotically that would help him ease the tension in him.

He landed in an advertisement for chocolate candies that made his desires change from one moment to the other. Suddenly he no longer desired sex, instead he felt the burning hunger for something sweet rise in him. Subconsciously licking with his tongue over his lips, he considered if Mac had something sweet in his refrigerator. Hadn't he seen a chocolate gateau in there? He decided to check it.

Smiling like a small kid, he then took it a minute later out of the refrigerator and placed it in front of him on the table. His smile deepened as he reached for the spoon.

About 20 minutes later, nothing was left of the gateau; he had eaten it completely - and he still was hungry for more. Once again searching Duncan's refrigerator for something sweet but not finding anything else, he finally decided to try the yoghurt. After he also had finished with it, he continued with the olives and several other things until he finally reached the gherkins. Then he felt ill, really ill.

He almost wouldn't have made it to Duncan's toilet where he vomited in the lavatory, kneeling on the hard ground. That was then the wonderful moment Duncan chose to make his appearance.

**Duncan, some minutes before**

Duncan stopped his car next to his dojo and got out, happy to be finally at home. The incident with the cooling system had cost him more than one hour, an hour he had preferred to spend with Adam instead.

While he went towards the dojo, he could feel the typical 'buzz' of Methos. A slight smile appeared on his face as he thought about the anti-alcoholic beer Joe had extra ordered from Europe. He really doubted – no, he was sure that Adam had not toughed it yet. The thought made him grin; some things were so typical for the Ancient that not even amnesia could change it.

He opened the door to his dojo... and the grin froze on his face as he discovered a headless body of a big man lying there. _Oh Good_, he thought as he felt his stomach knot, _no!_ In panic he raced to the elevator, in his mind pictures of Adam hiding in the loft, vulnerable and alone, not knowing what was going on... and it was his fault: he shouldn't have let him alone, should have taken a taxi.

A few moments later, he tore the elevator open. There was noise coming from his bad room; he felt his heart-rate speed up as he made his way there. He pushed the door open... and stared at the kneeling form of Adam, head bowed over the toilet. Duncan needed some seconds before his mind recognized the smell that was filling the room and the retching sounds Adam made. He immediately closed the door again.

Hesitating in front of the door, he then considered what to do now. Finally he knocked, "Adam?" he asked, "Adam, is everything fine?... You received a quickening and you are suffering the after effects of it now. This is a total normal reaction. If you feel alright to come out again, I can explain all about it."

The only answer he got was another retching. "Adam?" he asked a bit concerned. In his heart he really felt guilty; the Ancient had never assimilated quickening well, and now he also had had to deal with one alone.

"I'm alright Mac," he then heard the slight trembling young voice answer. A second later, he heard water being turned on; and a few moments after that, Adam finally opened the door. His face was very pale, but to Mac's great relief he made not a frightened impression. "Really, Mac, I'm fine... although I can't say the same of the gherkins from your refrigerator... could it be that their eat-by date was a bit expired? You really should control the food in your refrigerator more frequently... By the way, it also really wouldn't hurt to fill it with more sweet and good-tasting things instead the ugly-tasting wealthy products you have in there."

Duncan blinked, then his look felt on his table that was full of kitchenware and packaging. He looked back at Adam. Relief overwhelmed him as he suddenly understood: Adam had not vomited because of the fact that he was not able to bear the killing of another person, but because he had eaten too much food instead.

Both then sat together on Duncan's leather sofa and Duncan explained the after-effects of a quickening to Adam. One part of Duncan felt relieved that Adam seemed to have borne his first killing so well, although another part was a bit concerned about Adam's reaction: should he not show some guilt, or at least some uneasiness? _No_, he thought, _this had not been_ _Methos's first killing... but it had been Adam's first,_ a concerned voice in his mind whispered to him. _And didn't Adam seem to be a bit different now? A little bit darker maybe?_ He shook his head and quickly forced the unwelcome thought far away. _No, everything was totally normal._

**Night, Dream**

He found himself staying in the centre of a small village, his hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword. From all sites came loud screams of fear and pain; there were also several burning houses and fleeing people, their faces masks of terror.

Grinning, he raised his sword that was shining of blood, and began to run into the direction of one of the fleeing women. As he passed a water paddle, he saw for a second the reflection of his own face: cold golden eyes and a blue painted face grinned back at him.

Only five steps, then he grabbed the woman by her long black hair and dragged her back. Because she screamed in panic and tried to fight him, he backhanded her with his right hand and then pushed her to the ground. Pointing his sword to her throat, he then ordered with a very cold voice, "shut up!"

As he looked into her brown eyes that were full of fear and saw tears running down her face, he felt a rush of power race through his veins. _Yes, this is absolute power! _he thought in ecstasy as he grinned evilly at the woman.

"She's beautiful, brother," suddenly a cold and somehow amused sounding voice came from the right. As he looked up, he saw Kronos walk towards him. "It would be a waste to kill her now." Kronos stepped to the crying woman and grabbed her face with one hand, turning it brutally there and back to examine it a bit closer. Finally, Kronos let go of her again and looked back at him. "But it's your choice, brother. Do as you like; I think there're enough other beautiful woman left for our enjoyment, and who cares if there's one more or less?"

"Please," he then heard the woman beg while her body trembled in fear. Her panic stimulated his excitement even more; his grin deepened as he raised his weapon and...

... sat upright in his bed, his heart beating rapidly and his body covered in hot sweat. While he tried to slow down his breath, he let himself sack back on his bed. _What a dream! _he thought, still feeling the echo of power vibrate in his body.

Considering his dream, he then frowned: why had he dreamt of Kronos again? And why had he seen Silas during his quickening? Since his first meeting with Duncan, the appearances of Kronos in his dreams had become less, and during the last week, there had even been no single one. He almost had concluded that those were indeed snippets of memories received with the two quickening... and he almost had been ready to accept Adam Pierson's life as his own - but now he had doubts again.

And there was another question: why had his dream been so realistic this time? His other dreams, for example speaking bodiless heads or laughing skulls, had barley deserved the term realistic; but not this time. He had enjoyed the killing, and a part of him was still enjoying the memory of the violence.

Grabbing his pillow a little tighter, he curled under the blanket. _Maybe it's time to get some information about the Horsemen. I can try the Internet first... and then maybe Joe, he surly knows something or has access to the information I need._

Satisfied with his plan, he drifted to sleep, slightly aware that he had forgotten to ask Duncan about Byron and tell him about Gina's invitations.

**Next day, almost evening, Joe's Bar**

At the next day, both Adam and Joe sat in Joe's bar and prepared some filled roles for the evening song-contest that was planned to happen in two and a half hours. It should give young musicians the chance to prove their talent in front of a small audience.

"... and then she tried to seduce Mac to tell her Fitzcairn's last will," Joe continued to tell the story about Duncan's friend Fitzcairn.

"She obviously was a very clever and underhand woman," Adam threw in.

"Yeah, but she was not the only one in that little charade: there was also another woman, I think Mac called her Marie, who claimed to be pregnant from Fitz," Joe smiled as he looked at Adam.

"No!"

"Oh yes, and that without getting red at all."

"Wow!"

"You say it, buddy, you say it."

"And did she do it? I mean, did she kill Fitzcairn?"

"Well... no, it was the other one; but better let me tell the whole story or you won't get all the fun."

Another twenty minutes later, both men were laughing together. "That must really have been fun, I mean playing his own father," Adam shook his head while he grinned at Joe.

"Yeah, think so, too. But Fitzcairn laughed at the other side of his face at the end; he lost all his money in a Wall Street Crash and was bankrupt – no woman and no money!"

"Oh!"

"Yep, exactly!"

The talked about one hour, Adam the whole time considering the best way of approaching Joe on the Horsemen topic. He had been able to look it up via the hospital's Internet access: as result he had gotten over 486 000 sides that concerned the Horsemen somehow. Most of them had been trash, but he knew now that the Horsemen were bad guys and that they were mentioned in the Bible: their names were Famine, War, Pestilence and Death; and they were four – what meant that one Horsemen was not hanging in the watcher hall. And that leaded now to two big questions: had the fourth ever been identified by the watchers, and second, was he still alive?

"Joe?" he finally took heart and faced the old watcher, a harmless smile on his face.

"Yeah, buddy?" Joe looked up from his work, "something not right?"

"... no, everything is fine... I only wondered..."

Joe examined the young looking Immortal a bit closer. Somehow he had the feeling that Adam behaved a bit different today. Mac had told him about the quickening Adam had received yesterday... it should have settled completely during the night – but apparently it had not. The kid – no, the Old Man as Joe had to remember himself – had been acting a little strange the whole daylong.

Putting a gentle smile on his face, he said encouragingly, "what's up, Adam? Ask whatever you want to know... if you get an answer is another matter."

Adam inhaled deeply. "I wondered if you maybe...," hesitation, "I mean, have you ever...," green eyes looked directly into his, "have you ever heard of the..."

Adam didn't finish the sentence because he suddenly froze in typical Immortal manner and turned his head to the door. "We have a visitor, Joe," he then continued with a strange sounding voice.

Joe felt his own heart-rate speed up as a watched a big man of about 45 enter his bar. The man had red hairs and an almost white face with a grey-red beard. He remained for a second staying on the door while he examined Joe and Adam with light water-blue eyes. Then after a few seconds, he began to walk in Adam's direction.

Joe didn't need to see the black coat to be sure that this was an Immortal. _Not good_, he thought in slight panic while his hand tightened around the knife he had used for the rolls, _the last thing Adam needs now is another quickening_.

Forcing a friendly smile on his face, he then placed himself between Adam and the other Immortal. "I'm very sorry but we haven't open yet. You must have overseen our closed-sign. We open in one hour... so if you don't mind..."Still smiling he pointed at the exit.

The Immortal assessed him for some seconds, the expression on his face not a friendly one. "I'm not here because of the beer," the other then finally said with a dark voice, "I've business to discuss with him."He pointed at Adam. Obviously believing that everything had been said to this topic, he then by-passed Joe and went to Adam, who had watched the whole scene with wide eyes.

_No_, Joe thought as he went behind the bar where he had hidden his gun, _this is definitely not good_. Although Joe wasn't able to understand what the other man said to Adam, the meaning became clear when the other finally left the bar with the greeting, "see you then in a minute."

Almost not believing his eyes, he then watched Adam get up and take his coat, apparently making himself ready to leave the bar through the front door. "Adam," he shouted, "where to hell you think you're going?"

Adam turned back to him, the expression on his face made Joe frown: wasn't there a slight trace of excitement? _No_, Joe shook his head, _can't be; I must be wrong._

"He challenged me, Joe, where do you think I'm going?"

"Damn, Adam, you never – and I mean never – accepted a fight the way you do now, you always run instead... and if you ask me, that's a damn clever thing to do... Look, buddy, you already received a quickening yesterday, let that settle before you gonna take another one, right?... I call Mac, he'll take care of the bastard."

For a moment Adam seemed to consider his proposition, but then he finally shook his head. "No, Joe, this is my fight. He challenged me, not MacLeod; I don't want MacLeod fight my fights for me... I'll be back in some minutes."

Totally stunned by this reaction from Methos that was so totally out of character, Joe could only watch Adam nod goodbye to him and then leave the bar. _Damn!... stupid fool... __Damn, damn, damn! _Joe starred at his gun...

* * *

_Notes: so, once again an original sentence by Byron. And a word to the after-effect of the quickening: I wanted something else than the typical sex-thing. I asked several people about possible after-effects and finally chose the eating part (I found it funny)_

_Joe and Methos are talking about the episode 'Unusual Suspects' because I wanted Joe to tell Methos a funny story about Duncan's past - and that episode really was funny in my opinion!_

_And to the 486 000 www-sides concerning the Horsemen: I typed it into google (I have to say I was surprised myself because it was so much); but add Death to the search and you will get much less results._


	10. 10

_WARNING: There are some bad words and some violence in this part (ok, there was some violence in the other parts, too. I mean, every quickening is violent), so if this offends you, please stay away!_

* * *

Then Joe finally came to a decision. _To hell with my oat! I'll be damned if I let you get yourself killed; sometimes you have to interfere_. He grabbed his gun and hurried as fast as his legs allowed to the door, hoping that the two hadn't made it far – and to Joe's relief they hadn't. The other apparently had waited for Methos outside and was now leading him to an empty place where they would have no audience.

Also it was not easy for Joe, he managed to follow them within a short distance to the fighting place where hid behind a big tree. Leaning against it, his right hand clinched tightly around his gun, he could feel his heart beat very fast as he watched the two Immortals approach each other. If Methos showed any signs of loosing, he would shoot the other Immortal, he swore to himself._ Damn the watcher oath, this is my friend after all_!

But it didn't come to that: Joe watched in surprise Methos attack with incredible speed and force, he hadn't suspected the Ancient to have – Methos was definitely not the one in defence here. After a few exchanged blows, Methos suddenly roared a loud cry and then bypassed the other's parry, slicing his arm open. The Redhead screamed in pain and tried to back away, apparently realising now that he had challenged the wrong Immortal this time. For a second, Joe saw Methos's face in the light: it was a mask of pure rage. Then Methos suddenly raised his sword in an incredible fast move and beheaded his opponent.

A few moments later, white smog rose from the dead body and the quickening began to hit Methos, bringing the Immortal screaming to his knees. His face – Joe blinked – his face was showing the expression of pure ecstasy... and there was something else, something dark – something Joe didn't like to see there.

A bit concerned about his friend's strange behaviour, Joe then stepped from behind the tree and walked towards the Immortal, of course, not before the quickening was over. "Everything alright?" he then asked Methos/ Adam.

Methos smiled back at him, his eyes flashing now in a golden fire. "Sure, Joe. Everything is fine." He hesitated a moment, "why don't you go back and continue with the preparations, I join you later... I need some time alone now."

Examining him a bit closer, Joe was not so sure if this was really a good idea; Methos seemed to burst of energy, and there was also still an aura of darkness around him that Joe didn't like at all. "You're sure, buddy? Maybe it's better you talk with Mac about this mess."

"No, Joe," Methos shook his head, "I'm fine, really... As I said before, I only need some time alone." He smiled – although the smile seemed a bit forced to Joe.

"Ok," Joe then finally agreed. He knew that he couldn't help Methos/Adam to deal with the after-effects of the quickening; Methos had to get clear of it on his own. "See you then back in my bar," he nodded and then turned to leave, a slight feeling of concern still burning in his stomach.

**Adam**

He watched Joe leave while he weakly sat down on the ground. It was really disturbing: a part of him felt really tired now and wanted nothing else than to never get up from the ground again; but another part that was bursting of energy screamed loudly for more action. He drew his legs to his body while he stared at the bloody sword in his hands.

He had killed a human being – again. Shouldn't he feel guilty now? No, he finally shook his head. MacLeod had told him that he would have to kill to stay alive; this was after all the Game: kill or be killed. And Mac had killed, too. So it couldn't be wrong, or could it? No, he finally decided while he wiped his sword clean: live or die, that was the game about – and he would not be the one dying, of that he would made sure – if necessary with all means.

Because he still was burning of surplus energy, he decided to make a detour back to Joe's bar, hoping that the movement would reduce some tension in him. Deep in thoughts, he began to walk along the empty small streets and ...

... suddenly found himself face-to-face with three evil-looking guys of which one was pointing a gun at his face. The first man was an about 35 year old Black with a glad head and a face that was disfigured by several ugly looking scars. His also missing left eye indicated that he apparently was not new in the crime-business. The second man, a White of about 40, was also wearing a glad head, but this time with a big tattoo, a jumping jaguar. The moment the man grinned at him, Adam could also see that he had several holes in his mouth; apparently, they had been pushed out in a fight. Like the first man, he was clothed in a dirty outfit that must have been blue long ago, also Adam wasn't able to determine that exactly any longer. In contrast to these guys, the last almost looked pretty: he was a red-haired man of about 25, who was wearing a black hood-pullover, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses – maybe to appear cool.

The Black then ordered Adam with a hoarse voice to make not the slightest sound while he pushed him against the stonewall to his left. Adam managed barley not to fall down to the dirty pavement, but he was not able to prevent himself from hitting one of the big waste containers staying there. Burning pain spread through his left side, and he almost choked as he smelled an ugly odour rising from the container. To his feet he could hear fast, quiet sounds made by small paws: rats. It made him shudder, for a second a memory flashed through his mind: he saw himself lying on a boat, around him hundreds of rats that watched him with malicious yellow eyes.

He blinked and found himself back again in the small abandoned street with the three guys. The black glad head had stepped to him and was now threatening him with a big, black knife, which had a very impressive serrated blade and looked in contrast to his owner very cared-for. The man grinned evilly while he spat on the ground in front of Adam's shoes. "Give us all your money, and maybe you can keep your life," he then demanded.

"And I want his coat," the Redhead threw in.

That obviously made the Black a bit pissed. "No, it's mine this time; you got the coat of the last guy... it's not my fault that you stupid sun of a bitch lost it during the boozing."

"Yeah?" the Redhead now shouted back with an angry voice, "and you got the clock last time instead, you stupid asshole."

"Shut up, both of you," the third man then interrupted the two a bit nerved. "Everybody will get his share, ok? No need for a fight." Then he once again addressed Adam, "give me your money now, and I also want everything else that has some worth, understood?"

"I have no money with me," Adam replied while he kept the fearful expression on his face, he had been wearing the whole time. He knew that he should feel fear now, but instead he only felt excitement burn in his veins, excitement and a dark anger he couldn't explain.

While he shifted his balance a bit to get a better stand, the black guy brutally grabbed his face and turned it a bit so that they were staring into each other's eyes.

"No money? Then you better have something else for us, or your pretty ,little face will not stay the way it's now," the Black promised evilly - it was the last thing he ever did in his life.

A second later, he sacked slowly to the dirty ground, an expression of incredible surprise on his face while his hands tensed around the knife-hilt that was suddenly sticking out of his now bloody chest. When he hit the ground, he got a last look at his killer: golden eyes starred back at him, burning in rage; the former young looking face now was hard and cold. A thought flashed through his mind, the thought that they had made a terrible mistake – it was his last thought, then darkness claimed him.

The whole act had not lasted more than a few seconds: enough time for Adam to get near the white glad head, but not enough time for the two rubbers to overcome their surprise. When finally the glad head tried to react, it was too late for him; with a precious blow, Adam disarmed him and then snapped his right arm while he sent him flying to the ground where the other then remained crying in pain.

Then Adam turned and faced the Redhead. The man paled and then began to flee down the street, obviously having lost his courage. Turning back to the white glad head, Adam then pulled his sword out of his coat and pointed it at the totally stunned man.

"Hey man," the glad head whispered after a second with a now fear-trembling voice, "that was only a joke – a JOKE!!!"

"A joke," Adam repeated mockingly while he at the same time pressed the weapon a bit deeper at the other's throat. A part of him enjoyed the rush of power this act brought to him; although another part screamed at him to stop – but he didn't listen. Instead, he pressed the weapon even deeper into the skin; smiling when he saw red blood appear. It caused the man to scream in fear, any self-confidence gone now. A second later, an ugly smell suddenly appeared in the air: it was the smell of urine; apparently, the glad head had emptied himself in his jeans.

"Please Mister, only a joke," the man then sobbed with fear-white eyes while his body trembled in panic; tears appeared in his eyes.

For a short moment, Adam felt the burning desire to kill the other man rise in him; he wanted to see the blood and the breaking eyes in the moment of his death... but then the moment was gone. He blinked, and stared at the pity creature that lay crying to his feet. Abhorrence rose in him. No longer able to stand the sight, he then abruptly turned and left the place.

He needed about 30 minutes before he felt able again to walk back and face Joe. Not wanting to concern the old watcher with his feelings, he didn't tell him about the incident and pretended to be alright again; although he had the slight feeling that Joe wasn't buying his act because the watcher sent several concerned looks into his direction.

**Next day, watcher hospital**

While he was waiting in Dr. Wildwather's office the next day, Adam examined the small Indian figures that were standing on her desk. He took one of them into his hand and turned it in front of his eyes so that he could see it from all sites. A few moments later, the doctor entered, smiling at him while she sat down. For a short moment, he saw not her face but the woman's face of his dream stare back at him, and he felt the desire to... _No_, a voice whispered in his head and immediately whipped the thought away. He placed the figure back on the desk.

Pointing at the small figure, the doctor explained," this is a totem. My grandfather gave it to me as a small child, it shall help keep Death away."

"And does it help?"

She smiled, "I'm still alive, or not? So, what do you think?" Then she examined him while she continued with a serious voice, "I heard that you received two quickening within a very short time. I want to talk with you about it, Adam... How do you feel now?"

Looking into her dark eyes, he considered what to answer. _I feel good, Doc? And by the way, I almost killed three other guys yesterday and a part of me enjoyed it. Do you think that's a good sign, Doc?... Yeah sure, _he thought sarcastically, _that would surly be an answer the good Doc would understand_. He didn't need to be a seer to know where such a kind of answer would bring him: namely into a white cell, sedated with some drugs and the key thrown far away. No, the doctor expected to see some guilt – and he would give her that.

Looking down at the floor, he finally answered with an unsure and young sounding voice, "I'm not sure... I mean, I killed two man..." He looked up again, avoiding her eyes, "I really didn't want to kill them, but...," letting the last words trail off, he let the expression of guilt appear on his face.

When the gentle eyes of the doctor looked at him in sympathy, he really felt regret for a short moment: not for the two dead Immortals but for himself; a second he had the impression that the killing had robbed something of him - something he had already lost once a long time ago; but then the moment was gone.

They talked for about one hour about his feelings. The doctor told him that it had not been his fault; that he should not feel guilty because the other had attacked him first and not the other way around; and that he had no other choice than to fight if he wanted to survive.

After Duncan had arrived and taken Adam with him, the doctor stared at the closed door of her office, a slight frown on her face. Something was definitely strange. Most of the time Adam had made a normal impression to her, but for some seconds she had meant to face a totally different person, a person that made her shudder. She wasn't sure yet if this was only a temporary after-effect of the quickening or not, but she decided to keep an eye on him – a very close eye.

* * *

_The rat-part is a reference to your comment (chapter1), Village-Mystic_


	11. 11

_Here's the next part... hope you still like it. There is also some violence in this part, so be warned (but it will get better after this chapter (although we are reaching the end, soon)– if you think that I should rate the story R, please let me know)_

* * *

**Next day evening, Joe's bar**

"So you are moving in with Mac?" Joe asked Adam who was sitting at the bar, his glass with anti-alcoholic beer almost untouched standing in front of him.

Adam nodded to him while he began to play subconsciously with his glass. "Mac thinks it's best if I stay with him. He says that..."

Suddenly they were interrupted by loud noise coming from behind. When Adam turned, he discerned two men standing at the other end of the room. One was a big man of 40, with unwashed black hair and an aquiline nose – he was exactly that kind of man every mother warned her children about not to mess with. As far as Adam could see, was the other a skinny Blonde of about 20 who was holding his hands in a non-threatening gesture to the other man, apparently trying to reason with him. To their feet Adam could see several fragments of glass and some spilled liquid.

"Please," Adam then heard the Blonde say, "I said I'm sorry... I really didn't want to bump into you. It was an accident... why not let me buy you another beer, and we forget the whole thing?"

"I don't want your beer," the other spat into his face, apparently very eager to provoke a fight. "You stupid..." The rest of the sentence Adam wasn't able to understand because he heard Joe take something from under the bar behind him.

Then the Black-haired suddenly grabbed one of the beer-glasses of the neighbour-table and shuddered it with brutal force onto the Blonde's head. A loud scream echoed through the room; nobody spoke a single word as several shocked eye-pairs watched the Blonde sack to the floor, red blood running down his face. Somewhere a woman screamed in panic.

"Stop!" a not very loud but even more serious voice shouted then - Joe's, as Adam recognized a second later. The expression on Joe's face was cold, his eyes glittered in a very dangerous fire as he stepped a few moments later in front of the dark-haired man, no sign of fear shown on his face. "I don't tolerate fights in my bar. You will immediately leave now or I call the police."

Although Adam found Joe very impressive, the black-haired man obviously did not – maybe influenced by the alcohol he had drunken before. "I don't think so," he snarled as he stepped threateningly towards Joe, his eyes shooting murderous looks at the old watcher.

The moment Adam made himself ready to step between Joe and the Drunken, Joe suddenly produced a gun out of his shirt and aimed it at the guy. "I. Said. That. You. Should. Leave. Now!" With a very cold expression, Joe then pointed at the door, indicating for the other to open it.

Although the other glared with hate at Joe, he finally grabbed his coat and then walked backwards to the door. Joe and Adam followed him outside, closing the door behind them.

"I will never ever again see you in my bar," Joe then continued with a cold and very serious voice, "understood?"

The dark haired man snarled again, glaring at the two men in hate. Then – to Adam's total surprise – he suddenly jumped at Joe, tearing him down with his weight while he apparently tried to rip the gun out of Joe's hand. This total crazy and unexpected manoeuvre stunned Adam for a second - but then he reacted.

With a quick step, he brought himself next to the dark-haired man and Joe. Grabbing him at his shirt, he then pulled the man with all force he could manage away from Joe. Although the shirt tore in his hands, he succeeded to push the other man to the floor... But the Drunken didn't remain there for long: like an angry animal he let out a loud roar and then rushed upon Adam.

The man was totally out of control now, attacking Adam in wild fury with his fists. Although Adam was able to dodge the first blow, he couldn't prevent the second to connect with his head, making him dazed for a moment. While he tried to clear his head again, the dark-haired suddenly pulled a dagger and then sliced Adams palm open.

Adam cried in pain and anger. With a very quick move, he then grabbed the other's hand and snapped it. While the dagger felt to the ground, he then threw the other face first against the wall, his broken arm pressed behind the back.

When the other man cried in pain, he felt something dark in him respond to it. A part of him loved the power this act brought to him. He smiled as he pressed the other's injured arm, bringing the other man once again to cry in pain.

"Please," he then heard the other's begging, "please stop."

Adam only grinned and pressed the arm a bit stronger...

... Suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder – Joe. "It's ok, Adam. I think he understands... Let him go now, he has enough," he then heard the reassuring voice of his friend.

The dark fire in him vanished from one moment to the other; he blinked in confusion and starred at the miserable figure he still was holding against the wall. The other man was subbing in fear, his whole body trembling in panic and pain. This was not a dangerous enemy who was able to harm him in any way - no, Adam suddenly realized, this man was only a poor stupid guy who had drunken a beer too much - nothing else.

Being painfully aware that he had completely lost the control over himself, that he had totally overreacted, he then immediately let go of the man, making several steps back while he tried to calm down.

"Are you alright?" he then heard Joe ask with a very concerned voice as the watcher examined him. "I mean really alright?"

For a short moment, Adam considered telling Joe about the deep burning anger in him, but then he decided not to; he didn't want to concern the watcher even more, and he also was sure that he could deal with it by his own. "I'm ok, Joe," he then finally said. "Really," he repeated as he saw the not really persuaded-looking expression on Joe's face. "I only need some days to assimilate the quickening, then I will be fine again... I think that all was too much for me."

"Ok," Joe then finally agreed, still very far away from being reassured. "But I want you to know that you can call me night and day to talk, ok?"

"Thanks, Joe."

"Alright," Joe sighed deeply, guiding Adam at his arm back to the bar. Behind him he could hear the whimper of the Black-haired as the man got up and then began to stagger along the street, obviously having had enough trouble for one day.

About one hour later, Duncan finally arrived at the bar. All three of them stayed for another two hours, listening to the music and drinking some beer. Then Adam and Duncan left together, walking back to Duncan's barge while they talked about Duncan's old friend Fitz.

Adam was laughing about something Duncan had said, when they suddenly felt an Immortal presence. Both froze. With a quick step, Duncan immediately brought himself closer to Adam. "You stay behind me, regardless of what is going to happen; do you understand?" he then whispered into Adam's ear.

"But..."

"No... Do what I say."

"I..." Adam never finished the sentence because he was interrupted by the appearance of the Immortal. Because the street was only slightly illuminated, Adam only could see his contours first: they were enormous. But then the man stepped into the light, and Adam realized that they were actually facing two Immortals and not only one. One was a grey-haired man of 45 who made a very cared-for impression to him. The other, a black haired man of about 25, had a very big nose and was not very striking, although he looked a bit stupid to Adam's eyes.

The grey haired grinned as he looked at Duncan... then he discerned Adam. The grin immediately froze and was replaced by a very hateful expression instead. "You," he hissed, drawing his sword." You may have gotten away the last time, but this time I will have your head... Karl," he then snarled at the other man, "take care of his friend." Then he stepped closer to Adam - or would have – if not MacLeod had placed himself in the same moment between him and Adam.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod from the Clan MacLeod. We don't want to fight you, ok? So, what is this about?"

The man glared at Duncan, apparently angry because of his intervention. "I'm Armand de Court. Your friend here killed my two students... He will pay for it. You can stay or leave; I have no quarrel with you - but better do it quickly."

Adam could feel his heart speed up at these words. Could it be that these two Immortals were the remaining two of the ones that had attacked him? Could it really be that these two men were responsible for his amnesia, his month-long hell? Joe had told him that two of his attackers had survived... and had he not mentioned the name Armand? Anger began to rise in him as he starred at the two, anger for having lost his memory, his life... his identity.

Duncan apparently came to the same conclusion because the expression on his face changed within seconds from not threatening to fury. "You are the Immortals that attacked Adam!" he then shouted, anger making his voice tremble. "You think you need not go by the rules, don't you?"

"Oh," de Court spat back, "WE went by the rules, it was your little friend who broke them. He shot us... He killed my students... but now it's pay-time."

"I don't think so," Duncan answered with a cold and very serious voice, pulling his sword while he stepped towards the French. "You will have to face me first before you get to Adam."

"Oh no," the other laughed mockingly, "that's not the way it goes. I challenged your friend; you will fight my student here... Karl!" he then ordered.

Anger walled in Duncan as he watched the student approach him, on the other's face he saw an evil grin. "You heard my teacher, MacLeod," the other then growled. "So, let's begin."

Without giving Duncan a chance to say a single word, Karl then immediately attacked, forcing Duncan to jump to the side. While Duncan concentrated on his opponent, he could hear de Court approach Methos. _Damn_, he thought in rising panic, _this is definitely not a good thing. The last thing Methos needs now is another quickening. Damn! _Then his attention was drawn back to his adversary who was trying to land a blow against his sword arm.

While the fought between Duncan and Karl was in full mode, Adam found himself suddenly alone with the grey-haired Immortal.

"You little Shit will not get away this time," the other spat with hate burning eyes at him. Then he attacked with incredible speed, almost slicing Adam's right feet open as he tried to jump out of reach. During the next few minutes, both man exchanged some blows, neither of them able to get the upper hand.

At the moment Adam was feigning an attack, suddenly a loud cry disturbed his attention. Glancing for a second at Duncan to his left, he saw Duncan's enemy knelling on the ground, his wide-open eyes fixed at Duncan's raised sword.

Although Adam had only been diverted for a second, his enemy had taken his chance. When Adam turned his attention back to his opponent, he found himself starring in the barrel of a gun aimed at him. As in slow motion, he then watched in shock the other man press the trigger.

Adam tried to jump out of the way, but he was too slow. A second later, he felt burning pain spread in his chest as he was thrown backwards to the ground. "No," he screamed in panic and pain as he hit the ground, remaining to lie there while he felt darkness claim him. From a very short distance, he heard Duncan scream as he was hit by the quickening. Then everything went dark.

When he came back to life, the first thing he noticed was the burning pain in his chest. A bit confused, he opened his eyes, for a second totally disoriented. Then he saw Duncan: he was still knelling on the ground, apparently weakened by the quickening. In front of him stood de Court with his back to Adam, his weapon raised over Duncan's kneeling form.

"...die. First you, and then your little friend," he heard de Court whispered in hate. "He will pay. When I'm ready with him he will be screaming for Death..." He laughed evilly. "Say goodbye MacLeod"Time seemed to freeze as Adam watched with wide eyes the sword being brought down to Mac's neck...

... "Noooooooooo!!!" Adam heard himself scream in horror while he simultaneously grabbed his sword, which was still lying next to him, and then threw himself at the French. He knew that he was too far away, that he would be too late... but then steel banged against steel, bringing the other's blade away from Mac's vulnerable neck.

Very surprised but happy that he had saved Mac, Adam didn't hesitate but immediately attacked the other Immortal, not giving him any chance to recover from his surprise. Obviously not having expected him to come back from Death again so early, the other was totally stunned now, and because of that a very easy match for Adam.

Hate burned in Adam's veins as he attacked the other Immortal. It was de Court's fault that he had lost his identity, de Court's fault that his life was hell; and now he also had wanted to kill his friend. Anger increased in him. With brute force, he knocked the other's parry away, stabbing de Court through his chest. Crying in hate, he pulled the weapon out again and then served the other's head from his neck.

A few moments later, white smoke rose from the dead body and then hit Adam with full force. The hate the other had felt for him mixed with his own, overwhelmed him, consumed him. He screamed in hate and pain as he sank to the floor. Then Kronos appeared in front of him. The other smiled and offered him his hand. "_Join me, Brother. ... Kill MacLeod, and we will be united again. Together we will rule the world. Nothing on earth will stop us then."_

Then the quickening ended, and Adam found himself face to face with MacLeod. Duncan looked at him with a guilty expression while he offered him a hand to help him up. "Thank you, you saved my life.... de Court obviously didn't fight by the rules." Duncan shook his head in anger before he turned to get his sword from the ground, not seeing the cold expression on the face behind him.

Golden eyes watched Duncan coldly, following every of his movements. Kronos voice echoed in his mind as he pulled the dagger out of his jeans... ancient hate burned in his veins while his hand clenched around the weapon. Then he stabbed MacLeod quickly in the back, watching him without mercy sink to the floor.

After that, he grabbed his sword and stepped over MacLeod's lifeless body, hearing Kronos's voice once again whisper in his mind. "_You are Death._" He grinned while he raised his weapon. "I am Death," he repeated. His grin deepened as he stared down and...

... blinked. _Nooo!_ Something in him screamed in horror. He hesitated, blinked again... stared at the lifeless bloody body to his feet – the body of his teacher, his friend, his family! This was Mac, not his enemy! He blinked again... and then backed away, his fingers no longer having the power to hold the sword. _What have I done_? He thought in panic as his sword shattered to the ground.

"No," he whispered with a trembling voice. "I didn't want that... I don't want to kill my friends." In total shock, he continued to back away until he suddenly stumbled over one of the dead Immortals behind him and fell painfully on the ground.

_Joe_ - the name suddenly appeared in his mind. _Joe will help me...I have to find Joe. _Clinching with all his hope to this thought, he then forced himself to get up again. Without caring to look for his sword, he then began to flee to Joe.


	12. 12

_**Thank you all for reviewing! **_

_Village-Mystic: 'What happened to the Blonde?' Oops, hmm... wait a year and maybe I can come up with a good explanation... ok, shame on me, I totally have forgotten about him (so let's hope some of the other guests called an ambulance, or maybe his injury was not so bad at all and a cold ice-pack was enough help for him :-)_

_daughter1: ‚when are Joe or Duncan going to tell Adam who he really is': read and see :-)_

_Eldricht: Thanks, I changed truce and truth_

* * *

**Joe's Bar**

Joe was just about to close his bar, when suddenly a figure appeared at the door. Joe needed some seconds to register that this figure was no one else than Adam – although he looked... horrible – there was no other word for it. His face was very pale, almost white, covered in sweat; his green eyes were wide open, the widened pupils not reacting the slightest bit to the light.

Concern rose in Joe as he examined the Immortal a bit closer. Adam looked almost a bit catatonic to him... his coat was dirty, and Joe also discovered a big stain on its front – blood?... and what was this? Holes? _What to hell?_ Joe's heart began to speed up as he remembered that Adam had left the bar together with Mac. Something must have happened – something very bad. "Adam," he heard himself say, his voice strange even to his own ears. "Has something happened to Mac, Adam?"

Wide green eyes focussed on him, full of confusion.

"Is something wrong with Mac?" Joe repeated again while he let the Immortal in, closing then the door behind him with slight trembling hands. Concern made his throat tighten as he fixed the Immortal's back.

"No," he then heard an almost inaudible whisper, the voice sounding confused and... young, terrible young. "Mac is fine."

"Adam, what's wrong?" Joe could hear fear in his own voice. Forcing himself to bring his increasing panic under control, he then touched Adam's shoulder and turned the Immortal to him, so that they stood face-to-face. Through the fabric of the coat he could feel Adam tremble; green eyes looked at him in fear. Then Joe watched in slight horror a tear run down Adam's check.

"I..., "Adam sobbed almost inaudible. "I almost killed Mac." Adam backed away from Joe, his eyes wide. "I don't understand it, there is something in me, a dark anger... it overwhelmed me. I... I can do nothing against it." Green eyes looked with an impression of despair into Joe's. "Please help me. I don't know where else I can go... Joe, please!"

"Shh...," Joe murmured softly while he stepped to Adam and then took him into his arms. "Shh... it's ok, buddy, it's ok," he whispered gently, trying to calm down the despaired Immortal.

First, Adam was rigid in his arms, but then from one moment to the other, his self-control shattered. Joe could feel a shudder run through the young-looking body in his arms, then Adam suddenly began to weep at his shoulder, apparently no longer able to stop the tears.

Joe stared in real horror at the crying bundle in his arms. Methos would never have allowed himself to show so much emotion in front of his friends, would never have broken down in Joe's arms; but this was not Methos, Joe reminded himself – or maybe it was Methos, but the Methos he had been 5000 years ago, a very young Methos, a vulnerable and frightened kid.

Not knowing what else to do, Joe began to stroke Adam's back gently with one hand, trying to calm him down while he murmured reassuring words into his ears. Under his hands, he could still feel the body trembling. _Oh, God_, he thought in fear, _please let him find to himself again. Please let him not become another Cochrane_.

About 5 minutes later, Adam had finally rebuilt his mental walls enough again to free himself out of Joe's arms. While he whipped the tears of his wet face, he tried a slight smile, looking a bit embarrassed with now red eyes at Joe. "I'm sorry, Joe, I made a total fool of myself... I..."

"Hey," Joe interrupted him gently, shaking his head vehemently. "It's ok, buddy, really... Look, why don't you go in the back room and sit down there while I make you a hot tee or something else. Then we two talk... I promise you that you'll feel much better afterwards, ok?"

Green-red eyes stared at him for a moment. Then Adam nodded, a shy smile on his face. "Thank you, Joe... I think I would really like some tea now."

After watching Adam disappear in the back room, Joe closed his eyes for some seconds and inhaled deeply: _what a bloody mess!_ He sighed, then he went to make some tee. While he waited for the water to warm up, he dialled Duncan's number.

"MacLeod," he heard Mac's concerned voice at the other end of the line.

"It's me, Mac. Adam is with me at the moment. He had a mental break down... What to hell happened?"

There was a relieved sigh coming from the other end of the line, then again Mac's voice, "thank God that he's with you. I was so concerned that something bad had happened to him. I searched everywhere..."

"Mac, easy," Joe interrupted his friend, "what happened exactly?"

"We run in de Court and his student, "Mac's voice suddenly became angry and a bit outraged, "he cheated. That damn bastard shot me and tried to take my head. Had not Adam jumped between me and his blade, I would be dead." Duncan paused for a second. "I helped Adam up... and then I felt a burning pain in my back. After that, everything went dark. When I woke up again, Adam was gone... You cannot imagine how concerned I've been. I already searched for him at my Dojo; your place was the next on my list... Don't let him go away, Joe, I'll come as fast as possible."

"Easy, Mac. I don't think this would be a good idea right now."

"I don't understand," Mac's puzzled voice came out of the receiver.

"Look, Mac, Adam is totally confused now. I really think it's best if only one of us deals with him at the moment." _And it seems that he trusts me more then you_, he added silently in his mind.

"But..."

"No, Mac. I'll call you in one hour or so. Please keep your distance so long... Look, I know that you don't understand it now; I promise I'm going to explain you the reason later.... Please, Mac, trust me with this."

For some seconds only silence answered him, then he heard a deep sigh. "Alright," Duncan finally agreed. "I don't understand it, and I don't like it, but I trust you."

"Thank you, Mac... See you later then."

"Yeah... goodbye, Joe."

Relieved, Joe let out the breath he subconsciously had been holding during the whole time, and looked after the water. After filling it into a cup and putting a tea bag into it, he then finally returned to Adam.

The moment he saw him – a small figure sitting on a chair, arms around his angled feet, his head resting on his knees, Joe's heart almost broke. This was definitely not a 5000-year-old man sitting in front of him but a frightened and vulnerable kid instead. Joe's throat tightened as he placed the tea in front of the Immortal. "Here." Forcing himself to smile, he then continued, "I called Mac to let him know that you are here with me now."

Wide green eyes, still red from the crying, fixed him with an expression of fear. "He hates me now, doesn't he? Will he take my head?"

"NO!!!" Joe shook his head vehemently while he sat down next to Adam. "No, of course not, buddy. He is only concerned about you, concerned because you have run away... He desperately tried to find you." Joe looked into Adam's eyes. "Do you want to tell me what happened? Maybe I can help you."

Adam looked away from Joe and let go of his feet, taking instead the hot cup of tea into his trembling hands, holding tightly onto it. Then he starred for some seconds at the hot liquid. When he finally began to speak, his voice sounded husky and despaired. "I lied, Joe. I never dreamt of MacLeod... instead I dreamt of Kronos."

At the mention of the Horseman's name Joe almost choked, a cold shudder ran down his back. _No_, he thought in a mix of panic and fury, _this damn bastard; may he braise in hell. Why him, why not Alexa or someone else... but no, of all people it has to be him you remember. No wonder that you react the way you do..._

Not seeing Joe frown, Adam said, "I see him in my dreams – bloody dreams, full of violence." Taking a deep breath, he then continued, "I kill people in there." Suddenly Adam looked up, in his eyes a mixture of pain and fear, "and I like it." The last words were whispered so quietly that Joe almost wasn't able to understand them.

For a second, Joe felt the burning desire to kill Kronos rise in him - but the Horsemen was already dead, so he lay instead his right hand on Adam's shoulder and pressed it encouragingly. "It's only a dream, Adam. This is not real. It's not really you..."

A hysterical laugh interrupted him. "Oh yes, Joe, it's me. I love it... I love the power, the pain I inflict... and the killing. It's definitely me, Joe... I'm Death."

"I'm Death," he repeated almost screaming, not giving Joe time to say a single word. Then he got up, his back turned to Joe, and stared at one of the pictures hanging at the wall. "I'm Death," he whispered, barley audible now. "Kronos called me that."

He remained standing in front of the picture for some seconds before he then suddenly turned, a very tired and hopelessness expression now on his face. "At the beginning I really thought Kronos would be a dream; later I considered him to be a memory I got with the quickening." Adam shook his head, his shoulders sacked down. "But the truth is that he is really a part of my past. I'm Death... a Horseman of the Apocalypse, a killer... I lied to you, to Mac. I'm not Adam Pierson, Joe. Adam is only a lie – he never was real. I've been lying to you during the whole time, Joe; pretended to be someone I'm not."

"I know."

"What?"

"I said I know," Joe repeated with a serious voice while he got up and stepped to Adam. Stopping in front of the confused Immortal, he then extended his right hand and touched Adam's face. "I know... but you are wrong. You think you know the truth, but you are wrong."

"I... I don't understand," Adam stammered, his eyes now wide in confusion.

"You were Death – yes, that's right - but the pronunciation lies on the word 'were'. You AREN'T Death any longer, you've changed a long time ago."

"You know about Death?" Adam interrupted him in shock.

"Yes, I know about Death. I know about Kronos, and I also know about the Horsemen... But I also know YOU, and I'm sure – no – I swear that you are no longer the man called Death."

"But my dreams..."

"Are only dreams, nothing more."

Joe watched Adam close his eyes. Then after a few moments, he finally reopened them and focussed once again at Joe. "You say I'm not Death anymore... but I'm also not Adam... so, who I am?"

Joe sighed, having all the time feared for the moment Adam would ask this particular question. "First of all you are my friend, a very good friend - you risked your live for me... And second: Adam is not a lie. A part of you IS Adam, but only a part of you. You are so much more..." Joe looked directly into the green eyes, hesitating for a moment. "You are Methos."

The already pale face in front of Joe went white; green eyes widened in shock while his body began to tremble badly. Backing away to the wall, Adam whispered, "Methos."

For a moment that felt like eternity to Joe, neither spoke. Then Adam finally looked at Joe, on his face a strange expression, a mix of recognition and frustration. "Methos – I remember the name now – it has a meaning to me. It's MY name."

"But you don't remember anything else, or do you?" Joe asked a bit disappointed. For a short moment, a part of him really had hoped that calling Methos by his true name would make the Ancient remember his life again - but obviously, this was not the case.

"No," Adam confirmed him, his face showing the same big disappointment Joe was feeling. "I don't remember anything else..." He then shrugged helplessly, "You said Adam is a part of me... I don't understand, Joe, how do you mean that? How can he be a part of me? "

Joe sighed deeply while he passed with his right hand over his face, considering what he should do now. Should he tell Adam the truth? Would this help him or lead into another Cochrane-disaster? He examined the young looking Immortal in front of him a bit closer. Frustrated green eyes looked back at him in confusion, confusion and... wasn't there also a glimmer of hope in them? Yes, definitely. Joe sighed again, wishing himself for a second far, far away.

Deep in his heart he felt that it was time to give Adam some answers; but on the other side he feared Adam's reactions, still having the negative cause of Cochrane in his mind. Maybe he should get himself some professional help? The doctor surly could help him deal with this situation in the right way. But he would have to tell her the truth then, or at least parts of it – not a thought he liked very much. But honestly, was there another way? He fixed the Immortal again. Adam didn't make a very mentally balanced impression to him: Kronos appearing in his dreams and his recently displayed tendency for violence weren't very good signs.

_Alright_, he then finally decided with a heavy heart, _I definitely need the doctor's help before the whole mess will completely run out of the rudder_. Focussing his attention back at the still expectantly looking Immortal in front of him, he finally forced himself to produce an encouraging smile on his face. "Look, buddy, I really think that's time you get some answers, but I don't want to do it without your doctor and Mac." Seeing the expression on Adam's face change into disappointment, he quickly continued, "I'm going to call them now and invite them here, and then we talk, ok?"

Although Adam didn't seem to be very happy with this solution, he finally nodded. "Ok."

* * *

_Notes: I really thought very hard about ending the story with this chapter, but then I thought it would be too easy. I mean, Joe tells Methos his real name and everything is fine again? I don't think so. So I decided to go with another end, the end I have planned since the beginning. I really hope you will like it (I don't know if I can get it ready by tomorrow; but I promise to come up with it as fast as I can manage)_


	13. 13

_Finally, I have managed to finish the story! I'm sorry that it took me so long to end it but I had some problems: First my holidays were over what left me with almost no time, then my muse was on a strike and at the end my computer stopped working (I had to reformat it, and finally bought some new hardware). _

_I want to thank all my reviewers very much (I love reviews, they makes me write faster :-), and I especially want to thank joslin and Village-Mystic who almost reviewed every chapter (a big hug to you)._

_To all others who haven't reviewed yet: I would be very happy if you let me know if you liked the story (and which part most)._

_To Eldricht : I use the spell-check of Word (but it's not very good; I tried another one in the Internet for this chapter - but it also was not much better than Word), so if you know a really good one, please let me know._

_And now: read and have fun! _

_

* * *

_**Somewhere in Seacover**

_Damn_, Dr. Wildwather thought in fury, her hands clenched tightly around her BMW's steering wheel while she raced as fast as she could manage to Joe's bar. She already had been deeply asleep when she had gotten a phone call from Joe Dawson, telling her about Adam's current psychical state – no, not Adam, she corrected herself: METHOS, the oldest of all Immortals. And if this revelation had not been enough, Joe had also told her about DEATH, Death on a horseback, former – or maybe not so former – Horseman. Horseman with capital H as she made herself clear once again.

She silently cursed Joe Dawson for not telling her the whole truth from the beginning... No, he had to wait until the things had gotten in a complete mess. And even then Joe had not wanted to admit the whole truth to her, had only told her something about Adam being a bit older and that there would be some past-problems hunting him now – all very nebulous. If she had not insisted that she needed to know the whole truth or else would not be able to help Adam, Joe still wouldn't have told her a single thing.

It was not really so that she was not able to understand Joe; a part of her was – after all Methos was Joe's friend and he only tried to keep him safe. But another part of her, the doctoral part, cursed him very loudly for keeping Methos's identity a secret towards her. If she had known, she would have treated Methos in a completely different way, would have been able to interpret the signs he had shown so far properly... would maybe have been able to prevent the disaster from happening.

His fascination for the Horsemen as they had visited the 'Hale of Fame', his strange associations of the words she had given him, and not to forget his very disturbing personality-change during their last session, that all made sense now – terrible sense... but far too late.

But the whole disaster was not only Joe's fault, she decided. MacLeod was at least as guilty as Joe; had MacLeod looked after Adam more carefully as he had promised to her, the whole mess may have never happened. But no, MacLeod had to leave Adam alone, had not been there to prevent him from taking three quickening within a very short time – three! And that although he knew that the Ancient, according to Joe, took quickening very badly! No wonder Adam's mental state was now the way it was.

The big question now was if it was not already too late to help. Joe had told her about Adam's recently displaced acts of violence that had culminated in the attack on MacLeod. Her only hope was that Adam apparently hadn't totally surrendered to darkness yet, or he would not have gone to Joe for help ... But he was already damn close – far too close for her taste: only one quickening more and Adam would probably completely turn into his Death-persona again... and very likely remain there.

Dr. Wildwather suspected Methos to have created Death once because he had needed a strong persona to guarantee his survival back in the Bronze Age. With a relatively week personality like Adam, Methos would never ever have been able to stay alive during the violent past. Back then the motto had been 'rule or be ruled' - not wanting to be the later, Methos apparently had created Death. And now that he obviously felt weak again because he was not able to remember his identity, he once more subconsciously called for his stronger Death-persona to safe him.

Dr. Wildwather normally would have called a stronger personality not a bad thing; the problem was only that Death was not a person that could be called nice. To be honest: remembering the slight glimpses she had gotten during their last session were enough to bring back a cold shudder on her back. She neither liked to meet Death again face-to-face, nor had she the slightest intention to let Death lose on humankind once again.

The most logical thing was to keep Adam from taking any future quickening, but for how long? Two weeks, a month, a year? Or maybe even longer? She had absolute no information she could rely on.

Inhaling deeply, she finally concluded the only way for preventing Adam from turning into Death again: he needed to gain access to his memories, needed to become Methos again. Methos had the wisdom and the memory of 5000 years to rely on, Methos would be able to control his darker persona without any problems – after all, he had been succeeding in doing so for 3000 years now. But how to get Adam to remember again?... She had not the slightest clue...

**30 minutes later, Joe's Bar**

"A what?" Joe starred with a bewildered expression at the doctor who was sitting between Methos and MacLeod. When she returned his look, Joe could see in her eyes that she was not very lucky about her proposal herself. "An Indian ritual?" Joe repeated.

"Yes."

He could hear her take a deep sigh while she wiped with her left hand over her face.

"I know how that sounds... especially out of my mouth. You don't have to remind me that I'm the psychiatrist here." She sighed again, fixing Joe with her dark eyes. "But honestly, Joe, I no longer know any other way to deal with the whole mess. As I told you before, after you informed me about Adam – Methos! - I really thought very hard of a way...," she looked down at the floor, "and I couldn't come up with any good solution... Then I remembered something my grandfather told me long ago- you know, he is the medicine man of my tribe. I decided to call him and ask him for advice. He means that there is maybe a way for Adam to remember..." She looked up again and faced Methos who was starring at her out of wide eyes, his feet once again drawn up to his body while he obviously kept his distance to MacLeod. "But there are some risks," she continued, playing nervously now with the clock on her left hand.

"Risks?" Joe heard Duncan echo. According to the expression on his face, Duncan liked the whole situation not the slightest bit. "Which risks?"

"According to my grandfather, Adam could completely lose himself during the ritual, he could totally turn into Death... everything is possible; although my grandfather thinks that the risks are minimal."

"No, Methos won...," Duncan wanted to say, but was immediately interrupted.

"I do it." Methos voice was deadly serious. Looking at him, Joe saw determination glitter in the green eyes and knew immediately that the decision had been made.

"But..." Duncan nevertheless tried to argue with Methos.

"No, Mac, please understand." Methos turned to face Duncan, on his face now a pleading expression. "I almost killed you; I don't want this, I don't want to harm my friends... If I want to stop Death in me, I need my memories back... You don't know how horrible it is not to know who you really are... I know the risks and I decide that I WILL and CAN bear them."

Joe heard Duncan inhale deeply while he stared at the floor. He knew that Duncan was thinking of Richie now, that Duncan was remembering how he had killed his own student against his will, that he was feeling once more the pain that act had caused in him. After a few seconds, Duncan then finally looked up, a somehow sad expression on his face as he nodded. "Ok, we'll do it together."

A few seconds later, Joe felt the green eyes then fix on him, asking him silently for his support. Although Joe didn't like the whole thing the slightest bit more than Duncan, he nodded, too. A shy smile thanked him for his support before Methos turned his head to face Dr. Wildwather. "When?" he asked, his voice now absolutely determined.

"I'm going to call my grandfather and tell him what we have decided. I thing that he'll need a few hours to arrange everything he needs for the ritual... I suggest that we part now so that I can drive home to have a shower before we meet here again in two hours or so."

**Several hours later**

Several hours later, Joe stood with Methos, Duncan and the doctor in her grandfather's house and examined the surrounding. As much as he had seen so far, the whole house was decorated with many Indian looking figures and some amulets made of feathers and other natural materials. Behind them Joe could see some beautifully decorated weapons hanging on the wall: several tomahawks and a big bow that was wrapped around with blue coloured leather. Next to it, Joe discerned a red and black painted mask, several also red and black coloured feathers were arranged around it. It looked very... disturbing.

Joe was just about to ask the doctor about its meaning, as suddenly a small man entered through the with a feather-shade covered entrance. It was an old Indian clothed in brown leather pants and a long white shirt that had embroidered symbols on it. The hair of the old Indian was totally white and very long, almost reaching to his buttocks. He was wearing it openly, only kept out of his face by a small red leather band that was tied around his forehand. According to the many wrinkles on his sun-tanned face, he had to be at least over 80 years old.

The man looked up and smiled as he discerned his granddaughter. "Bozho," he then greeted her while he took her into a warm hug. After a few moments, he then finally let go of her again and looked at Joe.

When he suddenly felt the dark eyes of the old Indian on him, Joe had for a short moment the feeling as if the Indian could look down on the bottom of his soul. Then the dark eyes wandered to MacLeod, hesitated on him for some seconds, judged him. Finally the Indian examined Methos who stood near the wall, looking as if he was going to flee every moment. Without saying a single word, the Indian continued to stare at Methos for several minutes, his face giving away nothing. Then he finally bowed his head. "Kmode ma'oni ye'i ka'akwayen nanimwe," he said.

Joe heard the doctor's gentle voice translate, "he says that he feels honoured to meet 'the one who has been before the ancestors'."

"OshkIsh neye'zonya biak mjumnito ne'bmoge. Ke'nup ginan nwepmongonektosha," the old Indian then continued while he made some symbols with his hands into the air.

"My grandfather says that he can see the darkness in him, that he sees Death lurk in the shadows. He fears that Death will ride again if we don't hurry."

The Indian then once again said something to the doctor and she answered him, both talking in Indian so Joe was not able to understand a single word. After a few minutes, the doctor then finally addressed them again, "my grandfather has already made a room ready for the ritual. We have to change our clothes and then we can begin." She nodded to the door. "We should follow my grandfather to the prepared room now."

A few moments later, all five stood together in a small room without any windows that was only illuminated by small terracotta-vessels filled with burning oil. In the centre lay a big, red carpet, embroidered with several Indian symbols that were - according to the doctor - the Indian symbols for spirit and dream. Placed around the carpet, Joe could see several blue and red vessels full of dried herbs.

The old Indian took several white clothes that were lying on a small wooden closet and handed them to each of his visitors. After they all had changed, he took a small vessel with powder out of the closet and painted on their faces symbols while he murmured some words. They all got red paintings except of Adam, whose face the Indian painted in blue. Then he nodded to them to sit down on the floor, Adam in the middle.

Before the old Indian sat down himself, he lighted the vessels with the herbs up. Immediately a very pleasant aroma began to fill the room; Joe felt himself relax. The Indian took a bigger red vessel and placed it in front of him on the carpet while he continued to murmur in Indian and made gestures with his right hand into the air. As Joe bent a bit forward, he got glimpses of a green looking liquid that was contained inside the vessel.

Suddenly the murmur of the Indian stopped, and Joe could see him offer the vessel to Methos, indicating him to drink. The green eyes of Methos were wide open as he stared at the old man in front of him, hesitating a second before he took the vessel into his hands. But then he swallowed the liquid with one single gulp. After he had placed the vessel back on the ground, Joe watched a shudder run through his friend's body. Methos closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

A second later, the Indian began once again to murmur words, getting louder and louder while his small body rocked for and back. Joe felt himself pulled into another realm; his thoughts blurred. Only with a great effort of willpower, he finally managed to shake off the influence of the Indian's chanting and found back into reality again. A glance at Methos showed him that his friend was totally drawn into another sphere now. Methos eyes were wide open... starring into his past? Or his future? Joe did not know, but he wished with all his heart that it would be Methos and not Death looking back at him in the end.

**Inside the vision**

Adam found himself standing on a plateau. Below, a gage plunged away to dizzying depth while the sun was setting over the hills, pitching them into a red glowing fire. When he turned around, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with a pale looking woman with long, dark hair. He instantly felt a connection to her, as if he knew her very well... but he couldn't catch the memory.

The woman smiled at him while she said with a beautiful voice, "I'm here to guide you through your past."

"Who are you?" he wanted to know, feeling his heart beat quickly as he examined her very closely, trying desperately to place her face in his mind.

For a short moment, he meant to see a slight flicker of sadness cross over her face, but then she smiled and offered him her right hand. "You will remember me when you are ready... But now come, it's time to meet Death."

When he took her hand, the world around him changed from one moment to the other. Instead of standing on the plateau, he now found himself in the middle of a camp that was surrounded by desert. The sun was burning hotly at his skin while he noticed several people hurry with vessels that were apparently filled with food and liquid between several tents. It seemed that they were not able to see him because they did not react the slightest bit to his sudden appearance. "Where are we?" he tried to ask the woman, but she was gone.

He was not able to get concerned about her abrupt disappearance, because suddenly a scream came out of the tent to his right. It was a scream of incredible fear and pain. Following it, he then opened the tent and entered. Because in contrast to the gleaming light outside it was relatively dark in there, his eyes needed some seconds to acclimate before he was able to see a young woman lying on the ground. Her eyes were wide of fear and her cheek was dark-red; apparently, she had been beaten by the man who stood over her, staring down at her with an angry expression. Methos needed some seconds before his mind registered that this man was no one else than Kronos, the man he had seen in his dreams.

"You stupid little scum," Kronos spat before he grabbed her by the long hair, drawing her brutally to him. Getting now a better look at the ground, Methos noticed there a broken vessel and some spilled liquid. He watched Kronos then backhand the already terrified woman before suddenly the entrance of the tent opened and another man entered.

Methos blinked in surprise as he realized that the man was himself, an amused expression on the other Methos's face as he examined Kronos and the slave. "Problems, brother?"

"Ah," Kronos snarled while he pushed the woman back to the floor, backhanding her once again roughly, grinning as he saw tears run down her face. Without paying her any further attention, he then faced his brother. "Have you finished the plan yet? It's time that we ride again or Caspian and Silas will drive me into madness soon. They argue all the time." Kronos twisted his face in anger as he approached the other Methos, nodding him to sit down while he screamed at the still terrified woman to bring them something to drink.

Methos watched his other-self sit down on the ground. Nothing on his face indicated that he felt any mercy for the slave; instead, it looked more to him as if the other Methos found the whole scene quite amusing. His other self grinned and faced Kronos. "It's not Silas's fault that Caspian ate his fully. I mean, Caspian knew that Silas loved it and cared for it; he did it out of purpose."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Kronos sighed. "I already..."

From one moment to the other, Methos no longer stood in the tent but on a battlefield instead – or so it appeared at first sight. When he looked around, he saw many dead bodies, men, women and children lying on the ground, covered in blood. To his left Methos noticed dark clouds coming from several burning houses. As he walked into their direction, terrified screams filled his ears, making him shudder. Suddenly he discerned a group of frightened people who were trying to flee from a man on a white horse, in his hand a sword that was shining of blood. Methos was not able to see his face because it was covered by a silver mask that was shaped like a skull - the man looked as if arisen out of a terrible nightmare.

For a short moment he found himself looking into golden eyes – there was no mercy in them, nothing human. Then the man rode past him, following the fleeing people while he screamed an ancient war cry that brought Methos's blood to freeze.

"Nooo," Methos wanted to scream in horror as he then watched the golden-eyed man raise his weapon at a gallop and behead one of the fleeing men with one powerful stroke. Blood spurted everywhere around. Without a single second of hesitating, he then once again raised his sword and rammed one of the older woman threw while he laughed all the time – it was a very terrible laughter. A few moments later, he had killed all people except a beautiful woman that was now cowering on the ground, her eyes wide of terror, her body trembling. The rider got up from his horse and approached the woman while he removed the mask from his face. Methos heart made a few painful beats as he starred at the rider's face.

"No," he whispered in denial as he made a few steps back, shaking his head unbelievingly. "No." The horseman was no one else than himself, his face painted in blue. Methos closed his eyes, wishing himself far away, not wanting to believe what his eyes showed him. He counted to ten, hoping that when he opened his eyes again he would be somewhere else - but his hope was in vain. Instead, he watched his blue-painted other-self grab the woman by her hair and drag her from the ground, suddenly producing a dagger that he then held to her throat. An evil grin appeared on his face while he whispered into her ear, "I'm Death. You live to serve me... understood?"

Then the scenario changed once again. Methos found himself back in the camp again. He once more discerned his other-self, this time sitting on the ground together with Silas, Caspian and Kronos. Around them were several slaves that were serving food and whine. Methos heard their laughter as Caspian suddenly grabbed one of the women and bit her hard into her lips, drawing blood. The terrified woman screamed in pain and fear and tried to back away, an act that brought her a hard slap by the horseman.

Kronos grinned, "looks as she has some spirit." He fixed Caspian. "Do you like her? She belongs to Methos, but I think he doesn't mind sharing her with you." He then turned and faced the other Methos, "or do you, brother?"

Methos watched his other-self grin before he nodded to Caspian, "of course not, brother. We share everything. If you like her, Caspian, she is yours... But it would be nice if you don't damage her too much, so she'll still be able to do her work tomorrow." Paying no further attention to the now even more terrified looking slave, he then once again turned back to Silas and continued their conversation.

Methos shook his head, a part of him absolutely terrified of the lack of mercy his other-self was showing. Could this man really be him? There was no love, no trace of any human feeling in this other Methos. He only knew how to kill - that was the only thing he was able to. A feeling of abhorrence began to spread in his stomach as he continued to stare at himself. No, he finally decided, that couldn't be him.

Methos blinked when he suddenly found himself once again standing on the plateau. Because the sun had already settled down, Methos could now see the moon and the stars illuminate the landscape, making it appear almost supernatural. Then he discerned once again the dark-haired woman; she stood outside the railing at the edge, holding her face into the wind while she looked up at the starry firmament.

After a few seconds of silence, she finally turned to him. "Someone told me that every star you can see in the sky is the soul of a loved one who's left us," she then whispered.

He stared at her, for a moment totally stunned, not knowing what to respond while he watched her climb over the fence again, coming back to him.

"It's time we move on," she then said and touched his shoulder "I'm afraid my time here is limited."

From one second to the other, he then found himself standing in an empty church, only lighted up by the moonlight that was shining through the windows. Methos opened the door to his left and followed the small corridor leading to some chambers. Suddenly he heard a gentle voice, a voice that seemed somehow very familiar to him come out of one of the chambers.

Very carefully, he opened the door and discerned two people sitting on a table, in front of them two glasses of wine and a chess game. Methos also could see a small fireplace that illuminated the room with a warm light. When he finally entered, he could see that one of the men was once again himself; the other was a dark-haired priest with gentle eyes who smiled warmly at his other-self. There was an aura about this man, an aura that radiated incredible peace - it made himself relax and feel...at home?

The priest smiled as he raised his glass to take a sip, watching the other Methos make his move. The other took a pawn and moved it next to the priest's king, a smile appearing on his face. "Checkmate, Darius," he said.

The priest bent forward while he eyed the board a bit closer, his eyes narrowing as he concentrated on the figures. After a few seconds, he then finally looked up, a smile on his face. "Looks like you won again, old friend... Do you want a refill?" he then asked, pointing at the other Methos's glass.

When the other nodded, the priest got up and took a bottle of wine out of his cupboard, refilling the glasses while he suggested to move a bit closer to the fire. After they had settled down there, he smiled again at the other Methos. "By the way, I almost forgot to mention that Marcus called. He asks if you like to join him for another poker-game next Friday." The smile on his face widened, "he says that he wants to get his money back you pinched from him the last time... And he promised to bring some bottles of the old whiskey he bought recently – you know, the really expensive one."

"Pinched?... ha, he ..." Methos heard his other-self reply, a laugh audible in his voice. He no longer listened what they said because his attention was drawn to his own thoughts. This man was not Death, of that he was sure. Death would never have been friend with this gentle priest, would never have played chess with him - no, this was a total other man instead.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by another change of the surroundings. He was now standing in a room that was lighted up by lots of candles. The room was decorated by hundreds of roses of every shade, buds woven into wreaths and long-stemmed in vases. In the back he could hear music play at a low volume; and in the middle of the room he discovered a canopied bed, covered by petals of red roses.

The door suddenly opened; he watched himself enter the room, in his arms he was carrying a woman. Blinking in surprise, he realized after a few seconds that it was the same woman he had recently met back on the plateau. When the light illuminated her features, he could see love there, making her eyes gleam in an almost supernatural light.

His other-self stepped into the room and then lay the woman gently on the bed, smiling at her while he took a white rose of one of the vases and offered it to her. "I hope you like roses," Methos then heard him say.

"I hope you removed the thorns," she whispered while tears glittered in her eyes.

"I promise you, every thorn that is in my power," he heard his other-self answer before Methos watched him bend down to kiss her.

Then time seemed to speed up: suddenly the woman lay almost naked on the bed of roses, a golden necklace of gemstones glittering almost magical in the light. Her dark hair was spread in luxurious waves behind her, her skin gleamed alabaster as she looked with wide eyes shining of love at his other-self: a beautiful bridge in her marriage bed, Methos thought as he starred at her. He felt something in his heart respond.

He blinked, and suddenly the surroundings transformed again, though the woman remained lying in the bed – but she no longer lay in a bed of roses but a cold-looking hospital-bed instead. Although he still could see the love in her eyes, she now looked very pale and terrible ill.

Next to her sat his other-self, holding her hand and trying to smile at her. There was nothing left of Death in his other-self now, only love and endless sadness as he looked down at the sick woman.

The woman suddenly shivered uncontrollably while she called, "Adam! Adam!"

"I'm here baby, I'm here," he then heard the other Methos say while he gently stroked her hairs.

"I'm so cold... Could we... light a fire?"

While Methos felt something deep inside of him broke at her words, he watched his other-self climb into the bed with her, trying to warm her with his body, holding her tightly while he caressed her face.

"Adam," the woman then suddenly whispered, her voice weak but her eyes gazing full of love at his other-self. "I'm sorry..."

"For what, baby?"

"... I'm so tired...," she whispered, almost inaudible now,"... have to sleep now."

"Then let it go, it's time now."

While Methos felt his own heart brake in sorrow and pain, he watched his other-self kiss her one last goodbye, tears running down his face.

He almost believed the woman to be gone already, when she suddenly once again whispered, "remember me."

He blinked, totally stunned. As if these words had been a key, he suddenly remembered her, remembered the love he had felt and was still feeling for her, the pain he had suffered after she had died and left him behind. A hot tear rolled down his check as he stepped closer to her. "Alexa," he whispered, pain making his voice tremble. "Alexa," he once again repeated, his throat so tight now that he almost was not able to breath any longer.

"Yes, my Love," he then suddenly heard her beautiful voice coming from behind. He turned. Through a veil of tears he saw her standing in front of him, a gentle smile on her beautiful face as she extended a hand and touched his, caressing it, whipping away the hot tears. "You are not Death, my Love, Death is long gone... Death could have never loved me, would have never wept beside my bed. Death was never able to feel love – but you do." Her smile widened as she touched his lips. "I cannot stay with you, my Love. But I want you to know that I love you, Methos... and I will always guide you."

Then he suddenly felt her lips on his, warm and soft; her sweetness filled him. A warm feeling exploded in his stomach, swept away the darkness that had claimed him for so long, made him finally whole again. For a moment that felt like eternity to him, he remembered his past, saw the people he had met and the things he had done: he rode again with his brothers, sat with Darius under an old oak, wept at Rebecca's grave, walked with Marcus Constantine through Rome, laughed with Ramirez in front of the pyramids and sang together with Byron.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the room of the old Indian, the concerned face of Joe in front of him. A warm feeling rose in his stomach as he looked back at his friend, "I remember," he said, a smile appearing on his face.

**Two days later**

Two days had passed since he finally had gotten his memory back. He had spent the whole time with MacLeod and Joe, the old watcher apparently not wanting to leave him out of his eyes again. Methos smiled as he watched Joe; he hadn't expected that, but the amnesia had apparently made their friendship even tighter.

He raised his glass to take a sip as suddenly the door opened and Dr. Wildwather stepped into the bar, hesitating one moment and looking searchingly around until she discerned him. Then a smile appeared on her face and she walked towards him.

"Adam," she greeted him, looking into his eyes. "I only wanted to tell you that I move back to my tribe. The watchers offered me a job in the medical department around there; it's paid very good." Her smile widened. "I also wanted to let you know that I deleted your files, or at least changed them a bit... no one will ever discover your true identity."

"Thank you," he whispered as he looked at her, very grateful for her help.

"You don't have to thank me... Methos," she almost inaudible added while she bent forward so her lips nearly touched his ear. "Maybe you'll come to visit me someday? I would be honoured... You could tell me about the old times," she smiled. Then she took something out of her coat and offered it to him. As he got a closer look at it, he saw that it was the totem he had inspected back in her office.

"I thing you need it much more than I do," she whispered when he took it from her, "may it help keep Death away... Goodbye, Methos."

"Goodbye, Doc," he smiled, watching her then turn and leave.

"She is a good woman," he suddenly heard Joe's voice coming from behind. A few moments later, the old watcher stood next to him, placing another bottle of beer in front of Adam.

"Yes, she is," Methos agreed, a still thankful smile on his face.

"I'm going to play in a few hours," Joe then continued, "do you want to stay and listen?"

Methos looked up and fixed Joe. "I really would like, Joe, but there is something else I have to do... but I have to do it alone."

He felt the watcher's eyes on him, examining him closely. Then Joe finally nodded, "ok, buddy. But you call me if you need something, alright?"

"Thanks Joe," Methos smiled before he grabbed his coat and hurried to the door.

**A few hours later**

A few hours later, Methos stood at the same plateau he had stood in his dream/ vision. Above, he could see the eternal light of the stars. He smiled as he climbed over the fence, turning his face into the wind and closing his eyes as he let himself feel eternity.

Suddenly he heard a voice, the voice of Alexa whisper in his ears, "where do you think my star will be?"

He remembered his own answer, "see that bright one there, that's Venus, the goodness of love and beauty... I think you are going to be right next to her. And the beauty of Alexa will burn so brightly no one will be able to ever see Venus again."

He looked at the sky, searching for Venus... and for a moment, he meant to see Alexa's face there, smiling back at him in love.

END.

* * *

_Notes: Maybe you remember some of the Alexa - Methos passages in this story; I took them out of 'Highlander: An Evening at Joe's. Postcards from Alexa by Gillian Horvath & Donna Lettow'. Many of the dialogues between Alexa and Methos are original taken out of the book, so they do not belong to me. (I love that book, read it!)_

_The Indian language I use is called Potawatomi, but don't try to translate the sentences, they would make no sense because I only took some words and added them together._


End file.
